


I Will Keep You Warm

by Szaira



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Care, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Starvation, Winter, prince!youngjo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szaira/pseuds/Szaira
Summary: The winter's come earlier this year. With snowstorms and cold penetrating bones. With winds roaring hollow in empty corridors of the castle. With a fear that hunger will not be even half satisfied.‧ ❆ ‧Prince Youngjo sees the boy for the first time in his life on a winter evening. He has no idea that this meeting will make him realize how lost he was in reality around him.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. ❆ immediately

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ♡ This is my first fic, and English is not my first language (and unfortunately, no one has checked this work), so I'm a bit nervous. Sorry for all mistakes and inaccuracies. I do my best!
> 
> Of course, the characters are just inspired by real people and have nothing to do with them. This story especially through their loving hearts.
> 
> Some of the chapters may contain specific descriptions, but rather little the violence itself. After all, the characters in this story are hurt, so if it might make you feel uncomfortable, don't take the risk. Anyway, thank you for your interest :)
> 
>  **Additional note!**  
>  The plot is based on angst, and I'm trying to pass on different emotions. Although not much, things may be graphic. I'll try to warn you in specific moments, but I can't promise that warnings will cover everything, and as I've written above - have this in mind. I swear you one thing - 'graphic depictions of violence' is the only Archive warning for this story. I want to emphasize all of this one more time as the last thing I want to do is trigger someone. If you think I should put something more here, maybe another warning, please let me know.
> 
> The quote at the beginning is from the song "Lor - The King", perfectly reflecting the atmosphere.
> 
> I hope you will like it ❆

_So now you own the world,_

_March through underground halls,_

_You lose your way although,_

_They seemed brighter before._

The winter's come earlier this year. With snowstorms and cold penetrating bones. With winds roaring hollow in empty corridors of the castle. With a fear that hunger will not be even half satisfied.

And the past summer season was warm and humid. Occasional heavy rains didn’t spare the harvest, and therefore it wasn’t possible to obtain adequate stock. People tried to look to the future with hope, but they knew that sometimes it would be hard. Life has never coddled them, and they were always able to withstand adversity.

For simple people, happiness was sufficient access to water, food that gives strength to work, family warmth, and a house where it was possible to shelter from cold.

There were years when this happiness was tarnished. There were droughts turning water into a treasure more valuable than gold and storms that shook houses and torn roofs. Their loved ones died in wars and were mourned for months. There were times when fresh bread was respected more than usual, and dishes smelling of spices were recalled dreamily with empty stomachs. And these people survived it all.

But no one was prepared for what was to come.

‧ ❆ ‧

The king’s auditions never were so long as they are these days. Usually, people gathered to thank the king for his support and kind words, less often to express repentance for their deeds and ask for forgiveness. No one dared to question the law because people lived rather well.

Other times have come, and the reasons for pilgrimages to the castle became different. Farmers have begun coming and begging for a reduction in mandatory levies, explaining that their stocks were low. Due to numerous requests, the knight's academy has been temporarily closed, and young men, always eager to improve themselves, had to save their strength as no one knew what to expect while the snow continued to fall from the sky.

Prince Youngjo blinks intensely, trying to chase away sleep. He doesn't know how much time has passed since he took his position on the ornate chair set to the right of the king's throne, but it surely can be count in hours. As tired he is, he can't imagine the tiredness of people waiting for their turn to speak.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the servant leading people to the throne room announces the last audition, and this action doesn’t escape his father’s attention. He gives him a scolding look, which brings him to order, and Youngjo straightens up immediately, stretching his arms over the armrests and pointing his head straight at the front door. Despite being weary, he finds today's auditions exceptionally gracious. No bad news, no excessive emotions. Through the whole evening, he didn't feel overwhelmed by cases brought by newcomers and didn't have to struggle with keeping his face grave as compassion was crushing his chest. If they always were like that, he would be ready to sit in an uncomfortable position for days.

"Let him in," a voice on the other side of the throne is heard.

Responsibility for controlling auditions rests with the king's counselor, seated to the left of the king. He accompanies Youngjo's father in his reign from the day of his coronation. Prepared for this role since childhood, he does his job perfectly, but there is something about him that makes Youngjo distrust him. Stiff and succinct in emotion is his exact opposite.

After the queen's death, his father from a man with a great heart, became just as withdrawn. The prince finding no other reason, blamed for it his helper.

The door opens, and Youngjo is surprised when a young man steps into the room hesitantly. He stops at a considerable distance from the throne, but the prince still can notice his delicate features and sharp jawline. A dark brown coat accentuates his pale skin, and light blonde hair falls over his forehead, partially covers his eyes. Despite the tall-riding shoes on a thick cork, he seems to be of medium height. Youngjo is sure that he’s seen him for the first time in his life.

"My Lord," the boy says when permission is given to him to speak. "My name is Yeo Hwanwoong, and during summertime, I turned twenty-three."

His voice is hoarse, so Youngjo must concentrate to understands him. He astonishes when the boy says how old he is. From his posture, Youngjo concluded that he is no more than seventeen.

Hwanwoong, as he introduced himself, clears his throat.

"I'm coming to offer my hands to work in the castle," he continues. "Despite my young age, I have already taken up many activities in my life, and, depending on your needs, I will be honored to undertake every task entrusted to me. I can groom horses and have experience in food preparation. I am teachable, and I don’t learn slowly."

It is the first time Youngjo's witnessed someone volunteering to work in the castle. He is impressed by the boy’s courage, although the prince deduces from his attitude that it also costs him a lot of stress. He’s standing uncertainly, and at times it seems as if he will fall over at any moment, but his gaze is incessantly fixed on the king.

Youngjo's thoughts are interrupted by a soft chuckle from the other side of the throne.

And then there is silence in the throne room. The king's counselor's chuckle doesn’t escape Hwanwoong's attention, and even if he wanted to say more, he’s quiet. Youngjo feels his anger building up inside him, and seconds pass after which the king finally speaks himself.

"I appreciate your commitment," he says as he entwines his fingers under his chin. "After all, I have to decline. All vacancies are full, and we are not looking for anyone to help. Thank you for your love for the Kingdom. Go and stay healthy."

The prince can do nothing. He can’t challenge the words of the king. He can’t oppose them in the presence of people.

So there is nothing else to add. Hwanwoong doesn’t look surprised or upset. He seems just tired, maybe even more than before he started his speech. He closes his eyes for a moment, smiling shyly, then he opens them, bends low, and leaves the throne room with the same uncertain step as he entered.

‧ ❆ ‧

When the door closes, Youngjo doesn’t move and swallows to sound confident.

"Father," he begins.

"Don’t start, Youngjo," the counselor answers him as he sees the expression on his face. "I believe that you are reasonable and understand-"

"Father," the prince tries to ignore the other man and speaks to the king again. He doesn't remember the last time he acted so rude, but this is the moment he has to say something.

As a member of the royal family and heir to the throne, he should have the right to pronounce his opinion. Why couldn't they let the boy stay in the castle? An additional person certainly would be able to relieve the overburdened service. There is no shortage of food, and the tables are set as always. They had no reason.

"Not now, Youngjo, it's late," the king says, coming down from the platform on which the throne is located. "We will talk soon."

Youngjo clenches his fists. "Soon, it means when?" he asks. Usually calm, now he can barely refrain from saying something he might regret. Why can't they take him seriously?

He doesn’t get answers either to questions asked loud or to those remaining in his head and is left alone in the throne room.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo doesn't feel like going back to his chamber, so he’s walking alone through the dark corridors of the castle. He feels safe here, but deep down in his heart, he has an unease that can’t explain. If he were the king, he would let the boy stay. Maybe his father was afraid he might be a spy? According to him, it was clear that he had no bad intentions. He couldn't be sure, but still, he would have given him a chance. At first, a job without responsibility, and then maybe they could trust him. He would probably feel comfortable in the castle and could call it his home in the future.

The candle in his hand is burning out, so he turns back, but now anxiety in his heart is replenished with regret.

‧ ❆ ‧ 

He should have fallen asleep right away since the auditions had ended about midnight, but the prince is unable to sleep and has been rolling from side to side or staring at the canopy of his bed for several hours. The long time he had gained for thought made him reaffirm the idea that came to his mind while he was taking a bath. He’s sure that sleep won’t come anyway, so when the first rays of sunlight fall into the room through a crack in the curtains, he decides to implement what he has planned.

He doesn't know exactly where he wants to go but believes intuition will guide him right. Hwanwoong mentioned that he can take care of horses. Maybe he will find him in a stable? Since he is going to the town so early, he will have quite a long time before the necessity to return to his duties.

Youngjo changes his night outfit, allowing himself to wear loose and less formal clothes. After a moment of reflection, he also puts on a thick scarf and wraps it carefully, leaving visible only piercing dark eyes, protecting himself from the cold and providing a bit of anonymity.

The prince sneaks out of the castle in one of the side passages. Guards at the gate never pay attention to who leaves because that person doesn’t pose a threat to people inside the building.

He decides to go on foot as the distance is not too far, and a horse could make it difficult for him to search the town. The sky seems clear, and the weather is temporarily calm. For the last few weeks, he had hardly moved beyond the perimeter of the walls, so an idea of a walk makes him smile.

When he reaches the road, the sun is shining in all its glory, creating breathtaking scenery when its light is reflected by snow in the area. The prince fills his lungs with cold air, relishes the moment of peace and beauty of nature, and sees a cloud of steam escaping from his mouth as he exhales.

He’s so happy and pleased to think that he will make happy also someone else. Gold coins are jingling in his pocket as he’s walking forward.

But it’s colder than he thought. Either the temperature had dropped in a matter of hours, or the boy's appearance had caused this wrong impression. Now Youngjo understands that he just wasn’t able to buy warmer clothes, something appropriate for the weather. The prince should have taken more money which will let him gain them, in addition to food.

Next time. Youngjo is sure that next time he will give him more.

The journey is not long when he takes each step with a light mind. He’s close to the town, and first houses are in sight when his heart stops.

By the road under a nearby tree, there is a man covered with a dark brown coat.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo blinks, thinking his tired mind is playing tricks on him, but the human is still there. He immediately covers the distance between them and kneels at his side. He wants to scream when from under the boy's hood, he sees fair hair.

Skin pale and transparent, lips livid and little parted in try of catching an icy breath. Eyes shut. Eyelashes covered by snowflakes.

Here, right in front of him, is someone he wanted to find.

"What happened?” Youngjo asks, voice unsure and trembling, but the answer doesn’t come. Breath freezes in his throat as he shakes the boy. “What happened? Say something, please!" he calls out. He lifts Hwanwoong’s head against his knees, wanting to take him from the snow as far as possible, from white fluff on which his body has been resting for too long…

Nobody taught the prince how to react. Nobody told him that death could be silent, far away from a battlefield and glory. Youngjo lost in a race in which he didn't even know he was participating.

"Youngjo."

The prince turns around and sees Geonhak, right next to them. It doesn’t matter why he is here, what he will say. The world has stopped, and thought about the consequences of going to the town without permission is not enough to make it work again.

"I’ve seen you leaving, and when I’ve noticed that the weather was about to break, I went to meet you," says the tall blonde man as he approaches them. "I was keeping my distance, but I was concerned that you strayed from the road."

Youngjo wants to say something but can't put words into sentences and say them through a lump forming in his throat. He’s just staring in front of him, and before he manages to open his mouth, Geonhak kneels on the other side of the boy. In silence, he spreads layers of thin fabric on Hwanwoong’s chest, pulls out a glove from his hand, and gently puts it on the skin above his heart. Its coldness burns him, but this feeling is replaced by warmth going through his body when he feels slow and weak but still present heartbeat.

"He’s still alive," Geonhak says quietly and covers him as tightly as it’s possible with his clothes.

Youngjo takes a moment to understand the meaning of these words, and despair in his eyes gives way to shock. Hwanwoong is not dead. He is alive. Tears start running down his cheeks irresistibly.

"What should we do? How can we save him?" he asks.

Through sobbing, he pulls Hwanwoong closer. Geonhak puts his hand on Youngjo’s shoulder, squeezing it softly for the prince to look at him. His heart aches when their eyes meet, and he sees remaining tears gathered in his eyes.

Geonhak knows how hard experience this must be for Youngjo. That this is the first time when far away from marble walls and always lit torches, he sees how real life is going. How cruel real life is.

"Wait here, and I will go and look for him a place in the town. I should find a free bed if I pay enough," Geonhak says. He stands up and moves towards two horses bounded to trees a few steps from them, which Youngjo had not heard, had not noticed before.

It’s hard for Geonhak to admit that this boy has no chance of surviving. They’ve found him too late, and his exhausted at the first sight body will not fight much longer. All that they can do is provide him with an environment in which he can breathe his last, far away from snow and freeze.

Youngjo is silent. He’s staring at Geonhak’s footsteps, not sure if the hum he hears in his head is caused by wind or accumulated emotions.

"He needs a physician. We can’t just leave him somewhere for certain death!" he yells.

He isn’t able to keep emotions longer inside him. Even if he doesn’t know Hwanwoong, he wants to give him all the warmth from the world. Nobody deserves to die alone in a snowy featherbed.

Geonhak stops untieing a rope from a tree and looks at the prince. "Youngjo, I’m sorry. This is all we can do for him," he tries to say confidently. That is the truth, and they can’t deny it. That is the right decision.

"In the name of the prince, I command you," Youngjo says with trouble, words coming from his mouth between irregular breaths. He doesn't recognize himself, but he won’t leave Hwanwoong either here or in the town. "We will take him to the castle with us. I want to know if he’s receiving appropriate care."

Geonhak had seen people who hadn’t managed to hide from the excessive cold before and knows the consequences. He knows that Hwanwoong is on the brink of death, but behind the layer of unshed tears, there is something in Youngjo's eyes that doesn’t allow him to object.

It is time for the heir to understand how bitter the world around him is.

"You will ride with him on the way to the castle, and I will talk to the guards at the gate. But Youngjo…" Geonhak hesitates. "The king can't find out."

‧ ❆ ‧

Time is against them, but they have to be careful as ice covers the road in many places under the snow. Their pace isn’t slow, but Youngjo every minute seems longer now. Nothing else matters at this point except the tiny man in his arms.

The prince tries not to think about how light he is and holds him gently but firmly, additionally covered with his coat, with his head resting on Youngjo's chest. It's not important that this position is inconvenient. He will do anything not to hurt him more and anything to help him.

Geonhak's field experience is unmistakable. They are halfway to the castle when it starts snowing again, and a strong wind starts blowing when they reach the gate. Youngjo doesn’t allow himself to think about what would happen if he fought the feeling that forced him to leave his chamber at dawn.

Geonhak approaches the guards to explain the purpose of their arrival, but it’s enough that he comes close to be recognized and greeted with smiles. The prince is waiting away as no one should know about his lonely departure, and he doesn't understand why, but no one can know about Hwanwoong. If disclosing him would put him in more danger, he doesn't want to risk it. He moves further, uncertainly clenching and unclenching his fingers on their fabrics. Faster. Impatience and anxiety burn him inside.

Tears dried in his eyes as soon as he mounted his horse. His eyes were dry when Geonhak helped him embrace Hwanwoong.

There was no time and place for them.

Now, in endless waiting, Youngjo notices that the amount of heat he gives the boy is enough to melt the snowflakes on his eyelashes, making his cheeks wet and glistening in the sun. Far away from his companion's eyesight, the prince allows single drops to shine also under his eyelids again.

He leans over the boy and speaks so softly that before anyone else hears his words, they are blown away by a gust of wind.

"Please hold on a little longer... I promise... I promise I will keep you warm."


	2. ❆ stubbornly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the second chapter is here. The next one may not appear so soon, time will tell.  
> Thank you for your nice comments and kudos. I didn't even think they could be so motivating!  
> And I'm sorry for all the mistakes again.
> 
> The quote is from here - "Ruelle ft. Fleurie - Carry You".

_Is anybody out there?_

_Can you lead me to the light?_

They finally get into the castle without fuss, and Youngjo doesn't wait for Geonhak to take care of the horses and heads straight for the hospital wing. The storm outside is intensifying, dark clouds have covered the sky, and the corridor he’s traversing is shrouded in darkness. People in the castle have apparently hid in their chambers because the only sound he hears is the dull sound of his own footsteps. He approaches the end of the corridor when Geonhak catches up with him and blocks his way.

“We can’t go there.”

“What do you mean?” Youngjo asks. “We need to get him to the physician straight away. Please move over.”

The prince tries to dodge Geonhak before he is pulled in the opposite direction.

“I will explain to you later. Now we have to hurry up,” Geonhak concludes and breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn't argue and follows him.

“So where do you plan to go?” Youngjo asks, slightly out of breath, starting to feel the weight on his arms, after all, incomparably smaller than the burden stored in his chest. He gathers in himself and catches up with Geonhak, who has managed to move some distance.

“To Seoho,” Geonhak answers. “He should know how we can help him.”

“Seoho?” Youngjo hesitates.

Geonhak nods and quickens his step.

Seoho, like Geonhak, has been living in the castle for so many years that it would be hard for Youngjo to recall the moment they met. Before they came into his life, he often experienced loneliness due to being the only child. The company with his beloved mother wasn't able to ensure a lack of contact with his peers, so when she realized this, she immediately began looking for companions to create childhood memories with her son.

The queen didn't have to look far. The son of the court physician was of similar age, a little younger. The son of the commander of the knightly detachment was younger another year then. Even though they came from different backgrounds, children's openness knew no social layers and no borders, so they've become close friends. Youngjo was destined to take the throne, Geonhak was preparing to take charge of the army, and Seoho, following his father's path, was training in medicine.

Even though Seoho can't call himself a medical yet, the prince trusts his sharp mind and non-standard way of thinking. He has no doubts that he will do his best to help them, to save the boy.

But on the other hand, Youngjo is getting lost in the situation more which each passing minute. Why can't they go straight to the sick room? Something is wrong, and as soon as the situation around them calms down, he will have to talk to Geonhak. One of the traits that he values most about him is honesty, so he doesn't know what to think about his strange behavior in such urgent circumstances.

The castle seems deserted, but they still choose a longer path to not worry about meeting someone on their way. When they finally reach their destination and Geonhak knocks gently on the door, Youngjo realizes how terrified he is.

Until then, they had the goal of reaching a place where they could find help for someone who needs it.

Now they are here, and Youngjo doesn’t know what Seoho will say and what they will do next, what scares him to the core.

‧ ❆ ‧

Seoho reaches the door before they can knock a second time. Despite the early hour and unexpected visit, he greets them with a tousled light red hair and a smile that makes his eyes, diminished by the yet undefeated sleep, disappear even more. They widen in surprise when he sees the body pressed against Youngjo's chest, and he moves away quickly, letting them inside.

“Who is he? What happened?” asks Seoho, but without hesitation, he's next to Youngjo in seconds. First sight is enough for him to know that the newly brought patient is in serious condition.

“I’ve found him… I’ve found him in snow…” Youngjo whispers.

Seoho looks around the small chamber, searching for a place to put the unconscious boy down as his bed pressed into the corner will make it impossible for a proper examination. He takes the sheets off it and spreads them on the floor.

“Lay him here,” he says, pointing to the place he has quickly prepared.

Youngjo carries out the command, and together with Seoho, pushes aside the coats that have been trying to warm Hwanwoong so far.

“His clothes are soaking wet, we must change them as soon as possible. Go to the service and ask for it, Geonhak.” Words from Seoho's mouth aren't a request, but Geonhak doesn’t protest and disappears behind the door.

Seoho wastes no time, takes off Hwanwoong's damp shirt, and checks his condition. Youngjo must look away when he notices a clear outline of each of his ribs covered by frighteningly pale and paper skin. The boy is incredibly chilled, and his vital signs are not immediately visible, and it is only when Seoho bends close enough that he can hear slow and shallow breathing.

There are no wounds to mend or blood. Just a terrifying, deathly pallor.

The prince gives Seoho a towel from the indicated place when he asks for it, but when he doesn't need his help, he stands to the side and tries to calm down. He knows that anxiety will do nothing. But the fear intensifies when Seoho tries to connect with the boy, and there are unanswered questions in the air. When he gently pushes Hwanwoong’s wet hair away from his forehead before checking his eyes. When Seoho hums to himself words ununderstandable to Youngjo, looking for causes of the boy’s disease and ways of treating.

This situation overwhelms Youngjo, and he starts to panic, but the loud click of the door closing when Geonhak is back, allows him to refocus his senses and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

After a quick examination, Seoho turns his head. “I- I’m not sure-” he stutters. “Malnutrition, few bruises… I haven’t found another external injures...”

He summons Geonhak with his hand and takes the things brought by him.

“The major threat…” Seoho takes a deep breath. “Hypothermia. But I didn’t see frostbites, that’s good, it means-”

“How can we help him?” Youngjo interrupts.

Seoho becomes quiet, and with Geonhak, he dresses Hwanwoong in dry and thick clothes. When he fastens the last button of a linen shirt, he looks at Youngjo still standing at a considerable distance from them.

“I’m sorry… I can’t… We can’t do much…” Seoho says silently. He squeezes Hwanwoong’s hand, tiny and cold, in a gesture of support. For him, unnoticeably. And for himself as when it comes to his greatest fear, powerlessness, he’s far away from accepting the fact that even despite hundreds of hours spent on learning and training, he is helpless. “We can only try to raise his temperature right now,” he continues. “But I don’t know why he is in a state like this. I don't know what happened that he became ill and didn’t shelter from the frost. And… And I'm not sure if he will-”

“When will he recover?” Youngjo insists.

“-Wake up at all,” Seoho ends and immediately regrets the words he had to say.

Although he would like to do it the most in the world, he can’t lie. His conscience and the specificity of the profession do not allow him to do so. He can’t look the prince in the eye and assure him that everything will be fine, but above all, he can’t do this to his friend. Lying to the patient and his relatives is worse than improperly placed stitches on an uncleaned wound.

Relief is temporary, but suffering returns stronger and unbearable.

Just as the prince looked terrified before, now it's hard to read the expression on his face.

He looks Seoho in the eye. “I will do everything,” he says with determination.

The suffering of others has always affected Youngjo. When he was little, he kept bringing injured animals to the castle, and his mother laughed that it wasn’t a coincidence, and they had passed on to him because they sensed the goodness in his heart. Then he grew up and began his knight training. He was an ideal student to the point of practice duels as he always gave up when his opponent failed to block the blow, and Youngjo was aware that he’d caused someone pain. Many people in the castle considered his kindness a weakness, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. It was part of him, after all. Whenever he was able to help, he didn’t hesitate, no matter if it was a person or animal.

But this time is different. He doesn't even know Hwanwoong, however, from the moment he’s seen him in the throne room, he knew that the boy didn’t deserve such a fate. He’s too young to die.

“We should cover him with warmed blankets and change them as soon as they lose temperature,” Seoho suggests. “I just don't know where we can find a suitable place for him.”

He exchanges a meaningful look with Geonhak.

Youngjo frowns. Seoho too? He doesn’t know what is going on and why they are so insistent that no one should find out about Hwanwoong, but he doesn't have time to think about it now.

“My chamber. No one can enter it without my permission. I will cancel today's commitments,” he says confidently. “I will go get the place ready and dismiss the guard.”

Youngjo goes to the door but stops his hand on the doorknob and lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Hurry up, please.”

And he leaves before there are any words of disagreement. The final word belongs to the prince anyway, but he doesn't have the strength to argue now. From a sleepless night and an excess of emotions, he feels exhausted, and if he could, he would lie down and fall asleep, forgetting the past events. He wishes finding a boy in the snow was just a bad dream.

But that is the truth. Youngjo is walking through the corridor quickly and clenches his fists unconsciously.

Hwanwoong is too young to die.

To die with a thought that he was forgotten by the world.

‧ ❆ ‧

The chamber is clean, a bed is made, and newly added wood sizzles in the fireplace, warming the surroundings and providing warm light. Everything looks the way it always does, and yet Youngjo looks around feeling lost. A large room in the colors of dark bottle green and purple, decorated and stylish as well as simple and tasteful, with dark solid wood furniture and woven carpets that caress bare feet; such a familiar place now makes him feel guilty. He looks at the big bed and the pile of duvets all around and feels sick at the thought that when he was trying to summon sleep on the soft mattresses, Hwanwoong was trying to chase it away in the dark and frost.

There is a couch next to the fireplace. Youngjo considers it the warmest place in the area, takes a quilt from the bed, and heads that way.

After much thought, the prince concluded that sending everyone from his surroundings might be suspicious, and besides, it is very likely that he would need some hands to help. He can't demand Seoho and Geonhak to give up their duties. They aren't able to do it with the ease that is attributed to a prince.

Only one person comes to his mind.

He thanks a servant who has been in charge of his room, orders him to convey the information that he will spend the whole day in his chamber, and asks to call Dongju.

‧ ❆ ‧

Geonhak carrying Hwanwoong occurs not long after. From his serious but unconcerned expression, it appears that the path from Seoho's chamber wasn’t disturbed. He carefully places the boy on the couch and communicates recommendations the other man failed to deliver before Youngjo left.

“Seoho will come to see him later. Will you be alone here until then?” asks Geonhak as they finish arranging the blankets and pillows properly.

“I asked to call Dongju."

“I understand,” Geonhak mumbles, smoothing a wrinkle on the blanket. “I hope he gets better.”

Youngjo looks up. “So do I… He must recover…”

They’re staring at each other silently, but this silence is not uncomfortable. It’s more like talking without words, in a language which they've learned naturally through years in each other company.

Geonhak turns to the door when Youngjo finally gathers the courage to speak up.

“I would like to talk with you.”

He’s afraid of what his friend will tell him but has to face that fear. He can handle the unwanted news when it is necessary, accepting them for better or worse.

But why is fear crawling out and attacking him now from all sides?

“I know,” Geonhak says quietly. “We will talk tomorrow morning.”

The prince breathes with relief. He has no strength to raise his defense now.

“Geonhak…” he says, voice quiet but sure, stable. “Thank you... I don't know what I would do if you weren't there…”

‧ ❆ ‧

“Could you help me Dongju?” says Youngjo when the younger man shows up in the room. The prince tries to hang the blanket at such a distance that the flames don’t threaten it but that it reaches the right temperature at the same time.

Dongju immediately helps him, almost dropping the blanket when he spots the figure on the couch. He doesn't ask questions until Youngjo decides to explain the situation to him himself.

Hours pass. Sitting and waiting is a torment, so Youngjo tries to occupy with something his mind and hands. He’s trying to write back to letters pending responses, but thoughts don’t form meaningful sentences, and each time he takes on ink, it dries on the tip of the pen. The words circulating in his head have nothing to do with those that should be on the paper. What happened? Why him?

He wants answers to the questions that bother him. He is so afraid of them.

In the afternoon, Dongju goes to eat a meal. He offers to bring Youngjo some food, but the prince vehemently denies it. Despite the hunger he feels, he is not able to think about eating when flashbacks of the sunken skin on the boy's ribs are haunting his mind.

‧ ❆ ‧

Seoho comes in the evening as announced. Hwanwoong hasn’t regained consciousness, but Seoho is surprised to notice that his condition has slightly improved. Checking his temperature, he touches his cheek and forehead with the back of his hand, and although it doesn’t seem to be suitable yet, he is sure that the active heating has been working. His pulse, previously faint and slow, now has picked up the pace and is more palpable under the fingers. Seoho doesn't know what will happen next, but he is glad that the judgment he made when he’s first seen the boy turned out to be untrue.

He is much stronger than Seoho suspected.

He shares his observations with Youngjo, trying to maintain enthusiasm so as not to raise unnecessary hope. Even if the danger of cold became averted, complications of chilling and a high degree of emaciation are still threatening him.

Seoho approaches Youngjo who's standing to the side. “If he wakes up, don't let him go back to sleep until he eats something, even a small amount. It would be best to notify the kitchen to get a meal when it will be needed,” he says. “Would it be a good idea to ask Keonhee?”

Youngjo nods silently, but Seoho knows that he understands what he has just said.

“So I will. Call me if necessary, and I will come as soon as I can. Especially when he will regain consciousness.”

‧ ❆ ‧

It is long after sundown when Youngjo decides to release Dongju. Although he tries not to show it, it is evident that the whole day of adding wood, watching the flames, and helping with arranging blankets tired him.

“Go get some sleep. Thank you for supporting me all day,” Youngjo says when they together once again change the blanket heated directly by the fire.

“I will stay longer, I'm not tired,” Dongju denies. “I really want to help you, I want to help... him,” he adds quietly, looking at the sleeping figure.

“You’ve helped a lot, and now I’m asking you to rest. Can you do this for me? Come here again tomorrow. I think we will have a long day too,” the prince assures him with a reassuring smile, and this makes him nod in agreement and leave the chamber.

Dongju is a selflessly good man, and although it is his duty to obey every command of the prince, Youngjo never gives them to him. There are always requests and kind words between them. The boy, seemingly inaccessible from the outside, turned out to be very emotional and trustworthy. Something about him made Youngjo very quickly tell him to reject the titles.

The prince didn’t have many people with whom he could feel at ease, so whenever someone wanted to know him as a human and not a person marked by the destiny of inheriting the throne, he stretched his heart out in his hand. He had heard rumors that it would lose him one day, that these are not the features of a future king.

People in the castle have been saying many things, and he didn't ask for status or a position. If he could paint his fate himself, he would put the first dot in a different place. But the dots were already painted and arranged in lines, the lines crossed and went in a direction known only to each other, even though he would love to know their colors and shapes.

He would like to know what he can do to make his lines suitable for everyone. To not disappoint the royal family.

To accept his patterns himself.

‧ ❆ ‧

Now that he is alone, he doesn't leave Hwanwoong even for a step. There was a moment when, after several hours of vigilance, his eyelids were giving up to his willpower, and making sure of the boy's condition, he wanted to try some sleep.

Away from the sight of his freely rising and falling chest, the panic in his mind prevented him from closing his eyes.

So he's sitting on the floor, with his back against the couch or alternately on the armchair next to the fireplace, staring at the flames and adding trees to them from time to time.

To check if he doesn't have to add another blanket, he pushes back those, with which the boy is already covered, and grabs his hand. Youngjo never appreciated the warmth of the skin, never paid any attention to it. Now that he focuses on it, tears are forming under his eyelids once again.

Where do Hwanwoong’s lines come from, and why are they crossed like this? Was there a mistake in placing them, or did someone deliberately paint them one way and no other? Youngjo seems the latter were certainly white, white as snowflakes, but he asks in silent prayer that his last dot is not yet placed. So that after the imperfect shapes, he will be awaited by colorful and beautiful patterns.

It takes strength to hold back emotions, and they are stronger, overwhelming. There's no point in it.

Tears run down his cheeks and sink into the woven carpet.

‧ ❆ ‧

When Dongju will come tomorrow, and Youngjo will be sure that someone looks after Hwanwoong, he will have to rest himself. Until then, to stay awake, the prince is humming softly the songs his mother sang long ago. He hasn’t let go of Hwanwoong’s hand, and he’s stroking it on the surface with gentle movements. This action allows him to calm his thoughts and silence the noise that hums in his head despite the dead silence around them.

The carpet he’s sitting on is soft, and the fire is warming his back pleasantly. In the light of the fire, the boy's face isn't longer so frighteningly pale, and there is visible only calm.

Youngjo doesn't know him but wants to know him so much. He can't believe how much fighting spirit has fit into such a small body. He had never met anyone so brave. So that only he could wake up, the prince will tell him.

The moon is high in the sky, and fine snow is falling when exhaustion unconsciously takes over him, and his head slowly slides down next to their still joined hands.

_You are not alone._

_I’ve been here the whole time._

  
  



	3. ❆ gratuitously

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! This story is going to be a little longer than I thought. And sometimes sadder. Sorry in advance! And sorry for the mistakes, I really hope they aren't so nasty that they interfere with your reading.  
> Let me know what you think ♡
> 
> I don't know if someone checks the proposed songs, but I really enjoy putting them. They are related to the chapters :)  
> Loïc Nottet - Million Eyes

_Cause with your million eyes you’re watching me,_

_You talk behind my back, you spy on me._

The throne room is dark, despite the torches burning on the walls, and a snowstorm rages outside the window, lighting the room with a flash with every lightning strike. Youngjo takes his seat on the right side of the throne, but when he turns to ask his father what they are waiting for, he notices that he is alone. The prince spots the crown on the velvet seat, in the place where the king should be, and he doesn't understand what's happening when the door swings open.

A young man in a brown coat walks confidently into the room. He doesn't bow. He doesn't present. His gaze is focused directly on the throne as he moves forward.

Youngjo is sitting frozen on the chair. What does he want? The man ignores him, his eyes are fixed on the crown. With every second, he’s getting closer to the stairs leading to the landing. His face is pale as death, eyes dark circles, and filled with madness.

Youngjo looks around, terrified, but there are no guards. Does this man want to steal the crown? He is already on the stairs when the prince decides to reach for it. If his father found out that someone had stolen proof of his authority while his son was there, he would have been even more disappointed in him. Youngjo wouldn't be able to meet the king's eyes.

He grabs the crown, and the stranger suddenly stops and looks at him with a strange expression on his face. Youngjo wants to run away, but he knows that then he can be attacked from behind. He doesn't have any weapons and is so frozen with fear that he’s simply standing there, holding the crown in his hand.

The man moves forward again, this time slowly walking along the remaining stairs. He is already close when Youngjo shakes off in terror and turns towards the door. Although the stranger is shorter and smaller than him, there is something in him that causes cold sweat to run down the prince's back.

Youngjo doesn't even take a step when the man with a quick movement blocks his way and speaks, looking deep into his eyes.

“You did nothing.”

And then, with a force that the prince didn't suspect him, he pushes him down the stairs.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo suddenly wakes up and feels like his heart is about to pop out of his chest. He looks around confused and tries to calm his breathing when he realizes he has fallen asleep sitting on the floor with his head resting on the couch. Recent events come to his mind, and immediately all his attention is directed to the boy lying next to him. Hwanwoong is still asleep but restlessly turns his head from side to side, and his eyelids twitch. The prince wants to calm him down, but he still has trouble organizing his own thoughts after the past nightmare.

“Hwanwoong…” He shakes him gently. “Hwanwoong.” Although the boy doesn’t open his eyes, he calms down a bit, his expression softens, and his breathing becomes more even.

Youngjo doesn't know what else he can do, so he doesn’t move and is watching the burned wood blankly. This dream was so realistic that he thinks he still feels the stranger's hands on him and hears the echo of the falling crown. It's been a long time since he had nightmares every night, and without Seoho's herbs, he couldn't sleep through the night until dawn.

It was a hard time for the prince. Negative emotions like demons were coming to him at the moment when he was most vulnerable. After two years of mourning and grief during which he was stubbornly fighting to overwork the loss, he’s become finally able to breathe fully. At last, he’s become able to keep his feet firmly on the ground, without hesitating.

Or that's what he thought until yesterday. Now not knowing yet why and how to keep his balance, he feels his ground slowly start to shake again.

Youngjo hears a characteristic knock on the door, and after being allowed to enter, Dongju approaches him.

“I have something to give you,” the younger man says and hands him a rolled-up parchment.

“What is this?” Youngjo asks.

“I met Geonhak on the way here, and he asked me to pass it on to you,” Dongju says and walks towards the large carved table, putting on it something wrapped in a cloth. “And this is from me. Refusing to eat is not a solution and won’t help him in any way. Eat it before it cools down.”

Youngjo has to agree with Dongju whether he wants it or not and stands up, straightening his bones and feeling how the night in an uncomfortable position has affected every joint in his body. Going to the table, he unfolds the paper in his hand. A message there is written in the familiar handwriting of his friend.

_Where the world was ours._

Surprised, Youngjo glides his finger along with the letters on the paper. He immediately knows what place Goenhak means, but the way he let him know about it is unusual and strange. On a piece of paper, apart from these hastily and carelessly written few words, there is nothing more, no specific time. Youngjo frowns. He was sure that Geonhak would come straight to his chamber and has no idea why he decided to talk to him elsewhere.

“Did he tell you anything else?” he asks Dongju while opening the package he’s left on the table. It is still warm, medium-sized, freshly baked bread.

“No. He just made sure that I was going straight to your chamber.”

Youngjo thoughtfully breaks off a piece of bread and hands it to Dongju, who shakes his head in refusal.

“I guess I should go now,” the prince says. “Could you stay here? Hwanwoong might wake up soon. I wouldn’t like him to be alone then.”

“Of course,” Dongju answers. “Do you expect anything else from me?”

“No, I'm very grateful. Keep an eye on him. He was throwing himself in his sleep not long ago, something apparently bothers him. I will be back as soon as I can.”

‧ ❆ ‧

“Youngjo.” Geonhak sighs, walking away from the window and approaching the prince. “What's with him?”

“He's better. Seoho said he’s getting better.” Youngjo smiles gently, feeling like his hands become sweaty, fingers inching. He starts to get nervous. Asking about Hwanwoong's condition is not the main reason they’ve met.

There is silence, this time tense. Geonhak sensing the prince's nervousness doesn't let it last long.

“I will say it right away. When we saw each other yesterday morning, I only had my guess…” he starts hesitantly. “For some time, I've suspected that they were thinking about it. Yesterday we had to be careful, and therefore I warned you not to let anyone see Hwanwoong. But I didn't know how far everything was going-”

“What are you talking about?” Youngjo asks.

Geonhak looks away and swallows nervously. “You resigned from your duties yesterday. You didn't participate in the council... I'm so sorry that I didn't have the right to vote…”

"What? What is going on, Geonhak?”

"The council of the kingdom voted. Voted that you wouldn't be able to rule the Kingdom.”

“They…”

Youngjo's stepping back until his back hits the wall behind. He looks at Geonhak vacantly.

He knows the law, this option, this issue. He knows.

He’s defined himself as unsuitable long ago. He’s never felt like the right person for such an important position. He wanted nothing but to be relieved of that obligation.

But now, he feels like someone has taken a part of him and left him hollow.

“That will be better,” the prince says finally, says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It must be so.”

Geonhak’s voice raises. “There was nothing I could do, but you must oppose them and-“

“I don’t have to. I won’t do it…“

“Youngjo. The council of the kingdom isn’t functioning properly. Since your mother died, the king hasn't been thinking rationally-"

“I was praying for it. I was dreaming that someone would take this burden off me.” Youngjo says, feeling such pressure in his chest that it becomes increasingly difficult for him to breathe. He pushes himself off the wall and walks quickly towards the door.

“You can’t accept this decision!” Geonhak yells, grabbing Youngjo's wrist, preventing him from leaving the room. “People need you!”

“I won’t change their opinion about myself. I won’t change who I am! I can’t do anything, I really can’t..." Youngjo gasps, breaks grip on his wrist, and runs out of the porch, leaving Geonhak's screams behind him.

When they were little, everyone in this place made their dreams come true. After winning the fight, Geonhak was always knighted by Youngjo, and his good humor didn't leave him until the end of the day. The prince, girded with hastily found material serving as a royal cloak, always bowed his head low, waiting to be crowned by Geonhak with matched to him a copper crown. Then he was greeting an imaginary crowd with nobility. There the world was theirs.

Youngjo didn't want the future that lay ahead, but now he lost it and doesn't know what is next for him.

He feels that the world isn't his anymore.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo finds the strength to return to his chamber when bells ring noon. He promised Dongju that he would come back quickly but couldn't keep that promise with his thoughts running wild. The sight of Dongju pinning the veil confirms his belief that nothing new has happened since he left.

He crosses the room without saying a word and falls into the armchair, hiding his face in his hands. He hates not keeping his words, wants to explain this behavior to Dongju.

He looks up and sees brown eyes staring at him with fright.

“Hwanwoong?”

Dongju turns to them quickly, and after Youngjo nods, he leaves the room at once.

“How are you feeling?” The prince immediately leaps up from the armchair and heads towards Hwanwoong, but the boy sinks deeper into the cushions with each step Youngjo takes. He is next to him in the blink of an eye and lowers himself to level their face.

“Are you in pain?” Youngjo asks, kneeling beside the couch, terrified that he should’ve sent Dongju for Seoho instead of Keonhee. “I want to help you.”

The boy is silent, scared, and Youngjo worries that something is wrong. His heart is pounding around his throat. “What hurts you? Say something, please…”

“I h-have… no m-money...” Hwanwoong says finally, but so softly and indistinctly that Youngjo has trouble with understanding him.

“What do you mean?” the prince asks, concerned.

“I'm not able to… to pay you… I’m sorry…” Hwanwoong whispers. Shrunken with fear and squeezed into the bedclothes, he seems smaller, so weak.

When Youngjo realizes what the boy is thinking about, he feels his heart breaking into tiny pieces.

What has happened to him in life that the first thing he thinks about after winning the fight against death is that he can't pay the person who saved him the cost of care?

Youngjo is tempted to hug him to calm his unfounded fears. Instead, he just softens his tone of voice.

“Hey, you are safe here. Don't be afraid… I don't want any money from you,” he says more calmly. “I don't know if you remember what happened, but you got sick outside and today is your second day here. I'm so glad that you've woken up...”

Hwanwoong doesn't answer anything, but it is visible that Youngjo's words have significantly calmed him. Now that the tension and stress are gone, his eyelids seem heavy again, and he’s struggling to keep them open.

“Oh wait, don't close your eyes.” Youngjo squeezes his hand, trying to keep his concentration. A thought crosses his mind that several hours ago, he fell asleep holding him in a similar gesture, not knowing if he would hear his voice again. “You will eat something first, okay? It should make you feel better,” he says, smiling at him friendly.

Hwanwoong nods hesitantly. Despite so many questions, Youngjo refrains from asking them. His pleas have been heard, and he can finally do something for the boy besides endless waiting. Most of all, he wants him to feel comfortable, and throwing him questions right after regaining consciousness is a denial of that.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, he says nothing more, loosens his grip and sits down on the armchair again. He notices how Hwanwoong looks at the fire previously guarded by Dongju and turns his gaze himself in that direction. His expression wonders Youngjo. He would like to know what Hwanwoong is thinking.

Now that Youngjo's focus is on it, he realizes that he’s never had to count how much wood was left to keep the fire going. He’s never had to worry that the fire would go out, and then the temperature in the room would be dropping until it would be impossible to stop shaking. When he was cold, away from the heat source, it was enough to approach the fireplace to feel cozy and safe.

His heart shakes at the thought that it’s not obvious for everyone, that there are places where it’s not so easy...

It doesn't take long for Dongju to bring Keonhee. Youngjo doesn't remember the last time that the tall, dark-haired man was in his chamber and when he saw him last at all. One look is enough to make him realize how much he missed him.

His love for food had resulted in getting a position in a kitchen, so the prince rarely had a chance to talk to him. Despite this inconvenience, he didn’t mind it. He knows that this place is perfect for him, and he is happier there than anywhere else.

Keonhee walks the distance between them in few steps, holding a steaming bowl in his hand. He greets Youngjo with a nod of his head and sits down by the couch, facing Hwanoong.

“How are you? Call me Keonhee. I've heard a little about you, and I'm really happy I could bring you something. I didn't have much time to cook, but it probably didn't turn out that bad,” he says, pointing at the vessel and laughing softly. “Eat it now, and then I can prepare you something you want.”

“I’m Hwanwoong…” the boy says quietly and adds nothing else, still confused. Encouraged, he pulls his hand out from under the blankets and reaches for the bowl, his grip unsteady, so Keonhee moves to the edge of the couch and helps him scoop oatmeal.

“Oh, don't worry. I will help you,” he states.

So as not to distract them, Youngjo steps back towards his desk, trying to appear busy. He doesn't want to overwhelm Hwanwoong and knows that too many people around will lead to it. Thanking Dongju, this time the prince asks him to call Seoho. The sooner he sees him, the sooner the boy will be able to rest again. The questions can wait. The questions have to wait.

‧ ❆ ‧

Keonhee disappears the moment Seoho enters the room, previously telling him that Hwanwoong had eaten quite a bit of a hot meal. Seoho, having made sure that Hwanwoong isn't in pain and feels only tired, announces his future visits, instructs him to rest, and disappears as quickly as he appeared. When everyone leaves the room, Youngjo wants to talk to him, but fatigue wins over Hwanwoong. He falls asleep again, cuddled up in the blankets and pillows.

Youngjo hasn’t resigned from his duties for the day as he had none planned. Knowing that he will spend the rest of the day in the room anyway, he’s released Dongju earlier and now is wandering aimlessly around the chamber, trying to find something to do. He’s succeeding in it until sunset when the blockade held by him till now is about to break. Wanting to relax and calm his mind, he decides to take a warm bath.

Hot water and a scent of aromatic oils help him to unbend tense muscles, so he immerses his body in it up to the chin and tilts his head, enjoying the hot and humid air which is surrounding him. He wishes the water could wash away sadness and sorrow.

According to what Geonhak said, he’s lost his right to the throne. Something has been taken from him, why then he feels heavier, and his legs are bending under the pressure of this weight?

For the inheritance of blood to be questioned, required was the unambiguous consent of the kingdom council. All these people haven’t believed in him. He has never felt fitting for the role, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he had failed someone.

But he would do whatever he can.

Eyes have been watching him for years. There have been ears all around, listening to his every word. They have been judging his every move. Now he heard the final verdict.

The water is already cold, and the prince still can't understand why. He wonders where he made the mistake that the quarter-century of preparation for this task didn't bear fruit, and despite the correctly sown seed, the plant didn't live up to expectations. Instead of beautiful and colorful flowers that please the eye and painful thorns protecting the sensitive petals, the energy of the sun and water created a plant that can only boast green leaves.

But no one wants to accept that sometimes what is invisible to the eyes is more valuable. That this plant's green and lush leaves can provide shade and shelter for many creatures, and that instead of fleeting and perishable flowers, its roots drill the ground piece by piece each day, so that when it will be time and a threat that couldn't be overcome by spikes, they will keep the plant in the ground and won't allow anyone to deprive the lives protected by it.

‧ ❆ ‧

Dressed in his nightclothes, Youngjo heads towards the sleeping area. He didn't suspect that he would be able to talk to Hwanwoong before the morning and freaks out when he hears an unexpected voice behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

Youngjo turns around. “You’re awake.” He shakes off his shock and goes to the couch.

The boy is sitting, rather than lying, with pillows behind his back to help him maintain this position.

“What are you sorry for? Youngjo asks. “I’ve already said that I don't expect anything from you.”

“I’m truly sorry for the confusion. I'm not worthy of Your Majesty to care about me,” Hwanwoong says with his eyes downcast.

“Only a fever could justify saying things like that. Are you sure you are all right?” The prince looks at him with apprehension. “My name is Youngjo, and please call me that. I don't like titles. I have to disagree with you during our first conversation, but the life of every creature in this Kingdom is important to me. Your life is very important to me,” he continues.

Seeing how stressed the boy is with the new environment and the fact that so many people are involved in helping him, Youngjo decides not to tell him for the time being that he’s found him because he’d gone looking for him. Hwanwoong is silent, so the prince dares to finally ask him what is on his mind from the beginning.

“Could I ask you what happened? Why didn't you come home?” he says but doubts it is right when Hwanwoong's eyes are clearly saddened. “Don't talk if you don't want to. I didn't mean to make you sad.” The prince curses his curiosity. He should have wait until the boy decides to say something more himself or to respect his silence.

“I want to tell you,” Hwanwoong says faintly as he pulls the blanket higher. “But my story…”

“I would like to know so I can help you better,” the prince assures him.

“It’s… It’s not possible.” Hwanwoong takes a deep breath. "I… I have neither siblings nor parents… I was left alone many years ago. I’ve moved to a family that had agreed to take me to their roof in return for help with the farm and other household chores. I was looking after their children, their two little daughters must have liked me much, or so I thought,” he smiles and sighs longingly. “There were better and worse times, but I… I could admit that I was part of their family. I would be still.” A small smile disappears from his face as he continues. “But I’ve left.”

“Did they do something to you?” Youngjo asks without imagining any other reason for leaving a loving home.

“No, of course not.” Hwanwoong shrinks within himself as if his chest is crushed at the mere thought that his loved ones were to blame for his situation. “They are good people. They were treating me like a son.”

This time Youngjo waits, seeing that he only makes it difficult to confess for Hwanwoong, who's staring at the flames, collecting his words.

"We haven’t harvested the expected amount of garner in the summer, so everyone knew we wouldn't experience enough food in winter. We started to have a problem with meals, and things got worse day by day. I refused many of my portions of food so that the girls could eat more, but their parents were pressing me, saying that I had to eat too and that everything had to work out somehow…” Hwanwoong pauses for a moment, closing eyes, then opening them. “I saw how many supplies had been left and knew that it wouldn't be enough for the five of us. I couldn't bear the thought that my presence made children hungry. They were losing weight in the eyes. They didn't have as much strength as always to play...”

He stops to calm his breath, and his eyes begin to shine in the light of the flames. He closes them for longer to stop tears from escaping.

“I couldn't wait idly. It was sure we wouldn't survive like that. I’ve left their house at night in secret, without goodbye because they wouldn't have let me go... I was hoping my absence would be only temporary. I was going from house to house, asking if I could help and work for little money or food. I wasn't expecting much. During nights I was hiding in stables to wait until dawn and go on my search again. But everyone was in the same situation as my family. People aren't able to feed themselves, so I subconsciously knew that it was for nothing, but the thought of the girls didn't let me stop. I wanted so badly to bring something for them, to give them one meal without counting the pieces of bread. When I had nowhere else to go in the town, I went to the castle. Despite the slim chance, it was my last hope.”

Tears slowly start running down his cheeks, and Youngjo realizes once again how strong the boy is. He's looked away at the beginning of Hwanwoog's speech so that the tears flowing from his eyes would escape his attention.

“I was tired and hungry. When hope giving me strength disappeared, I realized that I was weak. I left the castle walls, I was wandering around then, not knowing what to do next, where to go… I remember walking to the town without knowing what I would do when I got there. I accepted the thought that it was my time, but I couldn't accept that I had let my loved ones down. I… I don't know what happened next...”

Youngjo finally looks at Hwanwoong. There are pain, suffering, and fear between them.

The prince thought he had cried all the tears by the recent events, but after hearing Hwanwoong's words, he has the impression that his eyes will never be dry again.

There are no sentences that can be said now, so he sits down next to the boy and embraces him as both of them stop inhibiting sobs. Hwanwoong doesn't object and inertly rests his head on the prince's frame, soaking his shirt with tears. Youngjo strokes his hair gently. He doesn't know if it's appropriate but wants to do everything to calm him down.

It doesn't matter anything other than giving the boy warmth, this time one that even the greatest fire can't provide. He wants to give him peace of mind, comfort. He wants to take away all his fear.

But at the same time, the prince is terrified. He didn't know. He was living in ignorance.

He doesn't care how hurt he’s inside. Tomorrow he will go to his father, and when he tells him everything, they will help all these people together. This nightmare will end.

Hwanwoong's sobs fade away, and his still weak body, exhausted by excess emotions, slowly relaxes in Youngjo's arms.

The prince exactly knows what he will do when the dawn comes.

He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I will go to my father and tell him everything. We will help you, I promise. We will help everyone who will need it. If only we knew people were starving...”

Hwanwoong moves away, looks at him with red eyes, and his expression changes.

“The king knows about it,” he whispers.


	4. ❆ possessively

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took a while! I hope it was worth the wait :)  
> Finally, I can share this song with you ♡  
> Tommee Profitt, Fleurie - Undone  
> tw // mention of parental death

_What’s won is won,_

_But it can always be undone._

Youngjo stands between Hwanwoong and the fireplace what makes his face hidden in the dimness.

“Why did you say that?”

Hwanwoong tenses up. He owes his life to the prince. He kindled his already dying flame and chased away the shadow that was approaching him. Youngjo saved him.

But when Hwanwoong sees his face shrouded in shadow with an unreadable expression, he is afraid.

He is afraid, but not because of himself. Now, when he realizes what a man the prince is, he is scared of what it will result in that he fought for his meaningless life. He fears what will happen to Youngjo's own life.

He heard many rumors about the prince. Most were negative, and it was these rumors which were spreading like a plague. People were saying he was inept, soft, cowardly. That whenever he was allowed to speak, he opposed any proposed clash with neighboring lands, whether it was for attack or defense. That he avoided risk and was afraid to go forward. People fearfully thought about life under his rule, and consciously or not, they didn’t want him to come to power. He was indifferent to them, or they wished him bad. They dared to say that the king would have given the prince's life for his wife's life if it were possible.

The truth was that the loudest were people who had never seen him. When someone mentioned that a knight from his family said that the prince treated them as an equal, he was silenced. As soon as anyone was brave enough to say something contrary to common opinion, he was taken for a freak.

No one defended the prince because no one knew him. No one knew him, but everyone judged him.

Hwanwoong didn’t want to judge either the prince or anyone. He himself, against all logic, as a stranger was allowed into the house, and no valuable things were hidden from him. The most valuable ones were put into his care. He feels his insides twist with grief as the girls stand in front of his eyes.

“What does the king know?” Youngjo asks.

Hwanwoong doesn't want to think about his family. The darkness consumed them gradually, there was less light with each day. They were learning to live without it. Wandering in the dark, they knew the time would come when the light would go out completely, and they were ready for it.

The prince is overwhelmed by darkness suddenly and, not being prepared for it, is looking for a torch to restore brightness. Hwanoong doesn't want to deprive him of the hope of regaining it. He knows that each of his next words will inevitably lead to it.

“He is aware of the situation that's arising in town,” he whispers.

Youngjo's gaze is piercing. “So why do people have a problem with food?”

The sound of silence is deafening. The bond of understanding that has arisen between them broke. Now each word creates a gap that is constantly growing. Hwanwoong wants to be silent, to lose his voice. But it's the truth, and not saying it out loud won't make it different. He can't protect Youngjo from the truth.

“What happens in the town and what in the castle is independent. It always has been like that.”

“The Kingdom is one.” Youngjo's fists clench, and his expression becomes cold.

Hwanwoong says nothing more. He finds no words that could have meaning now and bring the prince back to light. He doesn't know how to teach him to live without it.

“This can't be true. I won't believe it,” Youngjo says quietly. “Have some rest. You may not be fully well yet.”

He turns and walks away towards the sleeping area, leaving Hwanwoong alone.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo has no idea when he will finally get to sleep through the night again. If what Hwanwoong says is true and the king and the council of the kingdom are aware of what the people in the city are going through, he doesn't know if he will ever be able to do so.

The range of emotions he has experienced recently is like a whirlwind he cannot resist. From fear for the life of a man found in the snow to sadness and disappointment with himself caused by the decision to remove him from the throne and regret after he learned about the deepening hunger among the townspeople. Finally, to remorse after the last conversation with Hwanwoong. Unable to escape the force with which emotions attack him from all sides, he surrenders to them and follows the flow causing more damage.

He's left the chamber in the early morning as soon as Dongju arrived, recognizing that there was no time to waste. Deep down, he wasn't ready to confront Hwanwoong. The first thing the boy heard from him was that he was safe here. Then he accused him of lying. Despite heavy memories and experiences, Hwanwoong opened up to him. Youngjo, hearing the information he didn't want to and protecting himself from sprinkling salt on fresh wounds, treated him terribly. He has disappointed everyone already, and now he is disappointing himself.

Walking through the snowy courtyard, Youngjo hears the sound of bells announcing breakfast and wraps himself tighter in a thick coat. He had already done what was most important at that moment. Now he has to wait for the confrontation with his father.

‧ ❆ ‧

“Wake up, Hwanwoong...” A voice is calling him from far away. “Wake up!”

Hwanwoong opens his eyes and sees a dark-haired boy in front of him.

“You were sleeping all morning, and I was already getting worried,” Dongju says and smiles kindly. “On Youngjo's recommendation, I look after you today.”

Hwanwoong gets up on his elbows immediately and looks around, realizing that there are only two of them in the room. Visible through heavy curtains, the sun is already high in the sky.

“Where is the prince?” he asks, confused.

“He left a while ago,” says Dongju and pushes back a bit the blankets that cover Hwanwoong, grabbing his hands and pulling him gently towards him. “Come on, Seoho said you have to start moving today because your muscles will forget how they should work.”

Hwanwoong doesn't resist, and with Dongju's help, he gets up from the couch. After standing up too quickly, he feels black spots flicker in front of his eyes and staggers.

“We are in no rush,” Dongju says and helps him regain his balance by grabbing his shoulders. When he makes sure that Hwanwoong is standing steadily, he puts a hand on his back, guiding him towards the dining area.

The table is richly laid. Hwanoong sees fresh bread, slices of ripe cheese, apples, and nuts. Steam comes out of a tall jug, and when they are next to it, he realizes there is warm milk in it. He finds it hard to believe but can't doubt it. There is meat on a wooden tray.

Hwanwoong slows down, hesitating, but Dongju encourages him to take one of the chairs.

“Keonhee complained that you didn't tell him what to prepare for you,” Dongju says, taking the chair across from him. “I skipped breakfast with everyone to keep you company.”

“I'm pleased.” Hwanwoong murmurs, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. His gaze is earnestly avoiding the focus on Dongju.

He notices it. “Is something bothering you?”

Hwanwoong is worried about so many things that he doesn't know how to answer that question. It's hard for him to adapt to the new situation. His stomach rises, and a lump forms in his throat, seeing this amount of food prepared for him. Despite the feeling of hunger, he doesn't know if he will be able to swallow even a bite.

“Whatever happens, don't worry too much about it, okay? You are not alone anymore. We will help you,” Dongju says softly.

Hwanwoong squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't want help for himself and doesn't dare to ask for more. He can't get over that he didn't hold back last night but burdened the prince with his own suffering.

“I don't know the details, only that Youngjo went to Keonhee this morning. He was to ask him to go to the town on his behalf,” Dongju continues.

“To the town?” Hwanwoong opens his eyes, surprised at what Dongju said. He doesn't know why the prince would send anyone to town. Did he want to check if what he told him yesterday is true?

“Keonhee has moved to the castle quite late and is still in touch with people there. I think Youngjo mentioned something about getting food to a certain place, but I don't know anything else. He was in such a hurry, looked nervous.”

Hwanwoong's heart speeds up in his chest. It can't be true, and he doesn't believe it's possible. But if it is, he doesn't know how he will show his gratitude to the prince.

“You were lucky that the prince came across you,” Dongju smiles as he sees Hwanwoong's reaction. “But not because he is a prince. I don’t know another man who has such a big heart like him.”

‧ ❆ ‧

When the time is right, Youngjo goes to the king's chamber and knocks on the door. He doesn't get an answer but presses against the handle anyway and enters the room. There's no time to stall.

The spacious room is bright and filled with paintings. Portraits of successive members of the dynasty, scenes depicting hunting, the coronation of the reigning king immortalized on canvas. Right in front of the entrance is the one showing him with the king and queen. The whole family is dressed in festive robes and smiles radiantly. Youngjo is in the middle, and his parents' hands are rested on his shoulders. It was painted so long ago that the prince doesn't even remember how old he was then.

By the window, a man is sitting at a desk covered with papers, but it's not someone he wants to talk to now or at any time.

“Where is my father?”

“Nice to see you, Youngjo,” the king's counselor pushes back the pages he was reading and puts his elbows on the table, looking at Youngjo with interest. “I'm glad you finally showed up.”

“Tell me where I can find my father,” Youngjo says as he heads towards him. “I need to talk to him urgently.”

“He is busy. I may surprise you, but not everyone can give up their duties whenever they want.”

Hearing his words, the prince suddenly stops.

“You don't know what prompted me to do this, so you should have nothing to say about it.”

“Youngjo, you know what my opinion is on this.” The counselor smirks, getting up from the chair. “It hasn't changed for years. The time came for others to see it,” he says and heads in Youngjo’s direction.

The prince takes a step back. He will endure one more humiliation. He will do it for others. He will do it for Hwanwoong.

“Do you think it's enough that you come to your father now, and everything will be like it used to be? That a throne sent with soft cushions will wait ready for you to sit on it?” the man asks sharply. He is so close that their faces are centimeters apart. “Do you really dare to come here? There's no one left to intercede for you, Youngjo. Get out of the sight of the king and don't remind him that his only son has grown up to fail.”

Youngjo grits his teeth and swallows, surprised. Humiliated. Recalling the pained expression on Hwanwoong's face when he accused him yesterday allows him to restrain himself enough to make his voice sound strong and confident.

“The title was never important to me. I don't care what I'll be called. I don't care about the throne and the crown,” he says slowly, underlining each word. “But if you think that I will step aside now and leave the affairs of the kingdom to you and the rest of the council, then you are very wrong. Royal blood flows in my veins, and I won't stop caring for the kingdom as long as it is set in motion by my heart.”

Youngjo looks straight into his eyes. He feels the venom located in his heart start rising to the surface. "Our perception of goodness is different. If the throne was not upholstered in velvet, you would stay away from it. Only the benefits matter to you-"

“How dare you-“

Youngjo holds his breath as the counselor raises his hands abruptly but lowers them immediately when they hear the sound of the door opening.

‧ ❆ ‧

After spending the morning with Dongju, Hwanwoong felt more at ease. Since he is not much younger than him, a few hours were enough to make him feel comfortable in his presence, more relaxed as he managed to forget for a moment the reason why he was in the castle. For the first time in a very long time, his mind was free from worries about his loved ones, and he could breathe deeply without feeling the anxiety pressing his lungs and taking the air away.

The prince hasn't yet appeared in the chamber, and Hwanwoong unconsciously kept glancing at the door, waiting for him to come back. He knew that he'd accidentally hurt him. Even though he has Dongju next to him, he wants Youngjo to be here, he wants to talk to him again.

Dongju leaves the chamber and shows up after a while with fresh clothes and a pile of towels. “I'll take you to the bathroom so you can freshen up,” he says.

The door leading to the bathroom is not as decorated as the rest of the prince's chamber, but the room itself is breathtaking. As Dongju heats the bathtub water, Hwanwoong looks around in delight. There are so many candles on the stone shelves that it could light up the entire house of Hwanwoong’s family. The air smells of lavender and other flowers that Hwanwoong doesn't recognize.

After adding suds, Dongju forms a foam with a vigorous hand movement. Then he drops oil into the water, causing the main fragrance in the room the scent of a rose.

“From all the oils that used to be here, I see that now Youngjo only complements the rose ones. You will smell like a prince,” Dongju chuckles. “I think you will enjoy it. He always emphasizes how much the oils help him to calm down when his nerves are at the breaking point.”

Hwanwoong turns from the stone carving he was examining and looks at Dongju.

“Has he always been like this? So sensitive?” he asks hesitantly. “Yesterday evening, I made him disturbed. I didn't want to do it. I can't stop thinking about it.”

“He has been very emotional since I met him, so he had to be born like this,” Dongju sighs, smiling gently. “He’s become more sensitive about two years ago.”

“Is it when the queen passed away?”

‧ ❆ ‧

“What are you doing here, Youngjo?”

The king is dressed in robes intended for the time he performs his royal duties. A golden crown glistens at his temples.

“I came to talk to you, father,” Youngjo says. The blood rushes in his ears so loud he can barely hear his own words.

The king enters his chamber. “About what do you want to talk? Speak.”

“I would rather talk to you in private,” the prince insists. His hands tremble, so he clenches them into fists. He doesn't want to have with the counselor a word more.

His father looks tired and discouraged. He sits down on the place previously occupied by the other man and takes off the crown. He sighs, running a hand through his gray hair.

“Wait if necessary.” The king looks through the papers on the desk, ignoring the presence of other people. He picks up page after page, and when he makes sure that they are not what he was looking for, he puts them down, disappointed. “Haven't we got an answer yet?”

“We should receive it in days. If not, I will send a commissionaire with a new letter.”

Youngjo is watching this conversation, confused, and thoughts in his head run wild. The tension he sees in the king is not typical of him, as his father has trained the stony expression to perfection. He never showed real emotions in front of people, and regardless of whether the news from the battlefield made the heart glad or forced tears, he always reacted the same. His father always was possessed in front of everyone. He broke down in front of his son only once.

“Thank you. Go on with your preparations,” the king says.

The counselor bows to him and leaves the room, not throwing at Youngjo one more glance. Only the father and son are in the chamber now.

It's the time for Youngjo to put his pride in his pocket and speak for the good of the entire Kingdom.

Searching for the right words in his head, he notices how old his father has grown. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes are deep now, and the gray hair has thinned out. His father's appearance was not something he paid close attention to, but now that he realized such visible changes, he wonders how he could miss them.

There’s something strange about the way the king behaves. A speech prepared by Youngjo tangles in his head, interrupted by new questions pressing on his lips.

“What preparations, father?”

“Youngjo,” the king says, putting his face in his hands, then raises his head and looks at the prince with disgust. “Become interested in the affairs of the kingdom. I can no longer tolerate your ignorance,” he gasps. “I suspect Geonhak passed on to you what we’ve decided. At least you have the sense not to go against this decision.”

One more time, again. Youngjo's limit is running out. He also thought that his tears had been running out previously, and hearing what Hwanwoong had experienced, it turned out that there are still many of them.

He can bear a little more.

“After all, as a member of the royal family, you are to represent it with dignity. We are preparing for the anniversary of my coronation. Don’t you remember? I don't expect you to get involved,” the king hisses, looks away. “But you have to attend the ceremony.”

Youngjo feels the cold sweat trickling down his back and the blood draining from his face.

“You can't organize the ceremony.” Youngjo's breathing becomes faster. “There is hunger in the town.”

He’s waiting, and seconds pass.

In a moment, his father will be surprised, and he will express regret that he didn't know about it. Together with his son, they will start talking about how to help people who are suffering.

But Hwanwoong was right.

“And what about it?” the king asks.

Youngjo's ground wasn't stable. It was shaking slightly, but he kept his balance.

He feels his ground has broken. There's nothing to catch, flying into the abyss.

“People in the city have nothing to eat, and you don't only do anything about it, but you want to organize a feast?”

“They can handle it.” The king looks at Youngjo impatiently. “They can endure a lot of hardship.”

“You are not serious.”

“If I had to subordinate my every action to the inhabitants, we would be standing in the place, son.”

“They don't have enough food,” Youngjo gasps. “Do you understand? They are starving!”

“Are you starving, Youngjo?” The king gets up from his chair, propping his hands on the desk. “Stop acting like your mother! Don't you know what this leads to?!” Yelling, he knocks off opened ink and all the papers from the desk with a sudden hand movement. He walks towards Youngjo, ignoring the ink soaking into an embroidered carpet. “I'm sick of it. If you do not show up at the ceremony, you will leave the castle. Until then, I don't want to see you.”

Youngjo doesn't wait for his father to reach him, yanks the door, and runs out into the empty corridor. With each beat of his heart, the venom spreads more, infecting every tissue in his body.

‧ ❆ ‧

“He experienced her death very much,” Dongju says, stretching his hand out of the foam and sitting down on a nearby stool. “We didn't know how to help him. We were unable to console him.”

Hwanwoong is standing and looking at him silently as he doesn’t know what to say.

The death of the queen touched the people in the town. Compulsory mourning lasted a long time, and when it was over, people nurtured it in their hearts for a long time. Her passing became shrouded in mystery. No one knows why she died so young and unexpectedly.

Dongju's voice is serious, devoid of the lightness that has accompanied him all day. “It was a terrible blow to the prince. She was the dearest person to him…”

“Why did she die?” Hwanwoong whispers.

„Her death was the greatest injustice. Nobody could understand why it happened. But fate is not fair, and it never will be,” Dongju pauses, sighs. He runs his hand over the foam, making some of it disappear under his touch. “The prince is trying hard to find this justice, and this is one of the traits he inherited from her.” Dongju smiles sadly. “She died because she took care of a sick woman when no one gave her any chance of survival.”

Hwanwoong is staring at Dongju silently, and his insides twist.

“The physicians didn't know how to help this woman. As predicted, shortly after, she died.” Dongju pauses and takes a deep breath. “For the queen, this disease began a few days later and was even more violent. Youngjo was with the delegation at that time. Information about the deterioration of her health did not reach him yet, and his mother had already passed away.”

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo rests his head against the castle wall and hits the cold wall with his fist.

During another sleepless night, watching the moon move across the sky and waiting for the sun to rise, he was wondering what he would do if this happened. What he would do if Hwanwoong's absurd words become not only true but a real nightmare. He was thinking about it but hoped things would turn out differently.

The sun completes its course behind the horizon, and the outline of the moon slowly becomes visible in the sky. In the distance, bells announce supper time, but this sound on the porch is muffled. Youngjo is walking back and forth, watching the world fall into a peaceful night. He doesn't know when a quiet night will be given to him.

The prince is minutes away from meeting Genohak. When they were children, he often got irritated when waiting for his friend had been prolonged. He couldn't wait until he would be able to forget about children's worries and move to the world they were imagining. The world was theirs, and nothing could change that.

Now Youngjo is waiting for his friend, but his arrival won't mean forgetting his worries.

The windows face three directions of the world, and the light that they let in makes the room orange and pink. He has his back to the front door when he hears it creak.

“Geonhak,” he breaths.

The sun will go down, but it will rise again at dawn, chasing the darkness out of the world.

Youngjo’s world has been destroyed.

So he will build a new one.

“I must take the crown.”

_If the crown fits,_

_When the sword lifts,_

_Stay on guard,_

_Don’t lay your weapons down._


	5. ❆ bravely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name used has no connection with an existing person.  
> Isak Danielson - Silence

_It takes a lot of courage to see,_

_But open your eyes,_

_You'll be standing next to me._

The torches on the walls aren't burning when Youngjo descends stairs and paces empty corridors of the castle. He passes following shutters, and the world behind them is shrouded in blackness, broken by the moonlight reflecting in the snow covering everything in sight. Thick walls isolate the castle's cold air from the frost outside, and Youngjo shakes because the only source of heat he feels is a candle he’s holding in his hand, protected with the other hand from extinction. It illuminates his immediate surroundings, and the light it’s casting makes the shadows on the walls dance to the rhythm of his steps.

The castle is asleep, and his wounded heart screams mute, so silence is blissful for the ears. Remaining on the porch after Geonhak's departure, Youngjo was waiting for this silence for a long time. Watching the snowflakes falling outside the window, he was waiting to return to his chamber when Hwanwoong would peacefully sleep so that the words he wanted to say to him wouldn't disturb his rest. He himself needed more time for the words wandering in his head to form sentences, meaningful and momentous, and they had to mature to be said with certainty. The flame of hope and determination in his heart was something new, and Youngjo wasn't sure how to care for it yet.

Even though he still doesn't know, he is already at the door to his chamber, blows out the candle, and carefully pushes the handle making the door creak as it opens. The room is dark, and only the fire in the fireplace throws a dim light on the couch where a person is sitting who is not asleep.

Hwanwoong seems to expect him. As soon as he notices that the prince has entered the room, he immediately stands and bows his head low.

“Your Majesty-“ he says and stops when he remembers the prince's request, but it is visible that he can’t bring himself to call him by name.

Youngjo doesn't move from the door, unsure of his next move. There are only them in the chamber, so he guesses that Dongju’s left the room earlier, most likely after Hwanwoong's assurances that he would fall asleep.

It's been a day since the prince last has spoken to him, and the change that has occurred in him is noticeable at first sight.

Despite the uncertain expression on his face, Hwanwoong is standing firmly on his feet. He’s dressed in a linen shirt tied at the neck with a string, and dark brown pants are tailored to his height. Fair hair looks freshly washed, and the designated parting causes that it doesn't fall into his eyes but falls gently along the line of his face. He looks different, and Youngjo feels an unfamiliar feeling somewhere deep in his chest.

Three days passed since he’d seen Hwanwoong for the first time in the throne room, weak and broken. Three days ago, in a night dark like this, he was staring at the moonlight, and waiting for the dawn, to go beyond the safe walls of the castle and help a person in need. Hours passed when no one was able to tell him whether or not he had offered his help too late and hours when the only thing he could guarantee him was warmth. He provided him only with a place to shelter from the frost, then decent meals and fresh clothes, and now the person in front of him is not the man who introduced himself in a hoarse voice then.

As he’s watching Hwanwoong approach him, he feels something he can't name. Hwanwoong eyes looking at him are no longer dark circles and shine even in the twilight, and despite still sharp features and sunken cheeks, the prince sees that he has already regained some of his strength. The feeling between regret and relief spreads through his chest, but there is something else about it. Something else that bothers him.

“I shouldn't be here anymore,” Hwanwoong says, stopping at a slight distance from him. “However, I couldn't leave without my deepest acknowledgments. I am unable to repay you, and I don't think I’ll ever be, but if there is ever an opportunity or a way for the kindness shown to me to come back, it will be my priority to do so.”

His words sound confident, but his slightly trembling hands reveal that he had to repeat them many times for his assurance to be spoken without stuttering. He looks away during his speech, only occasionally maintaining eye contact with the prince for longer. In these moments, Youngjo sees in his eyes fear, and remorse burns him under his skin.

He shudders when the sense of his statement reaches him. “Did you want to leave the castle?”

“I am eternally grateful, but-“

“Hwanwoong.” Hearing his name, the boy turns his eyes previously directed at the floor towards the prince, whose expression is serious as he continues. “I would like you to stay here longer.”

Hwanwoong's eyes widen in surprise.

“I will understand if you refuse but know that I would be glad if you would like to stay in the castle for some time,” Youngjo says, trying to keep his voice stable, trying not to show how Hwanwoong's words hit him. “However, if you wish to return to your family, I will understand it, and I will support you as much as it will be possible...”

“I don't…” Hwanwoong stutters. “I don’t think I deserve-“

“Hwanwoong, I don't deserve you to agree to stay. After all, I’m standing here in front of you, and that's the only thing I ask of you,” Youngjo says, putting the candle on a nearby stool and coming closer. Thought that he could decide to leave speeds his heart, crushes his chest. “In our conversation yesterday, I treated you horribly, and despite hours spent looking for words to apologize to you, I didn't find the right words to say. Fearing the truth, I selfishly questioned what you’d said and accused you of lying. I don't know how to express how much I despise myself because I questioned my own values based on trust and honesty.”

Hwanwoong is silent, and when Youngjo doesn't say anything more, the only sound heard in the room is the squeaking of wood in the fireplace as the fire smolders, illuminating their faces and emphasizing their emotions. Hwanwoong looks lost and confused, and when the prince realizes it, the fear paralyzes him. Seeing him recover and having the strength to leave when he hasn't been given a better chance of recovery brings him calm, but it is painful to think that he won't be able to know him, what he craved while awaiting the sentence of destiny. He doesn't want to make him stay. He can't do it. He wants him not to leave.

The flame of determination in his heart became kindled, and even unknowingly, Hwanwoong was the first spark that lit up the darkness in which he was stuck for so long. Youngjo wants him to help this fire shine brighter and help its flames grow.

Without a spark, no wood will bring warmth. Without a spark, no torch will light the way.

“Because of my ignorance, I wasn’t aware of what was happening around me, and the reality I was afraid of turned out to be real." Youngjo's voice begins to break, so he pauses for a moment, exhales slowly. “I can't fix the mistakes of the past, but I can stop the future ones. I didn't believe you before, and I would like to start changing reality from that mistake.” He swallows. “Stay, and as the prince of this Kingdom, I promise you that I will never again doubt any word you say.”

Youngjo speaks softly, but they are close enough that Hwanwoog hears his every word clearly. There is such certainty in his voice that it sounds louder than a scream.

“I will never lie to you myself.”

Hwanwoong shudders at the sound of the prince's whisper. They are so close that to look him in the eye, he has to lift his head.

“Do you believe me?”

Reassurances are not necessary. Everything is visible in his eyes.

“I do,” Hwanwoong whispers.

The thread of understanding established from the first words exchanged with each other broke after following accusations. Now it is enough to look in the eyes, reflecting the flickering flames in the background, for the torn ends to intertwine again.

“Will you stay?” the prince asks.

A look in the eyes is enough, and the thread begins to turn into a thicker ribbon.

“I will,” comes the answer.

‧ ❆ ‧

The throne room is dark, and the thunders outside are now more frequent and louder. Youngjo feels cold from the stone floor and pain piercing his entire body like a thousand, a million tiny needles. Breathing hard, he tries to focus his eyesight, and when he succeeds at times, looking straight ahead, he sees the lightning flashes reflected in chandeliers. The light irritates him, and his eyelids weigh heavily, so he wants to surrender and let them droop as he hears the clatter of heels. Gathering up the rest of his strength, he turns his head towards the sound and sees a man in a brown coat going down the stairs towards him.

Another lightning bolt illuminates the room, and Youngjo is blinded by the flash reflected in the golden crown near the place where he is lying. The man walks past the crown, and Youngjo holds his breath, seeing through his half-closed eyes as he stops by it and lifts it from the ground. His heart is pounding in his chest, and pain takes control of his every sense, so it takes him a while to realize that the man is talking to him, and he tries to calm down to understand his words.

“You did nothing.”

Same sentence over and over again. Throbbing pain bursts in his head, and he doesn't know if what he hears is spoken by the man or whether his mind is recalling it all the time. He gathers himself and wants to cut himself off from these words by putting his hands to his ears. Forced movement causes a few tears to flow from the corners of his eyes, and suddenly the noise subsides.

Youngjo uncertainly opens his eyelids and looks around, but his position prevents him from seeing the entire room. He can't see the man or the crown anywhere, but instead of relief, he grows even more frightened. Regardless of the disappearance of the crown, the unpredictable person got into the castle immersed in sleep, and the only person who knows about it is him. Gritting his teeth, he raises himself on his elbows, and this time he doesn't have to strain his eyes to see what he cares about as the man stands by the door with the crown in his hand.

With a mad smile, he pulls the handle.

‧ ❆ ‧

Youngjo wakes up drenched in sweat. The atmosphere in his chamber is calm, contrary to what is going on in his head, and he closes his eyes again, trying to stop the thoughts raging in his mind. As he sits down, he realizes that his wet fists are still clenched on the sheets, but his body is free from the realistic pain that was burning him before he suddenly woke up. Seeing the sky outside the window, he deduces that there is still some time to dawn, so he falls back on the pillows, hoping that he will be able to rest for a while longer. Sleep doesn't come, and the naive expectation is filled with every worry that torments him.

He's scared. The decision has been made, and he has no intention of backing away from it, but it hasn't taken the fear out of him. Fear for people, for the future. Emotions don't limit themselves, and they confuse thoughts, undermine plans and ideas in his head, and drive him crazy. Determination and uncertainty are so extreme, and yet they mix and diffuse into the ocean of thoughts, in which he’s drowning.

He gives up and gets up from bed, unsure how he can distract himself before the hour comes when he hopes to put his thoughts together. Although the fire must have gone out some time ago, the room is still warm and quite bright thanks to the rays of the rising sun slowly peeking through the window. Seeing the burned wood, the prince instinctively moves towards the fireplace but stops when he notices the figure on the couch. Hwanwoong lies with disheveled hair among the scattered blankets, and Youngjo worries for a second, but he seems sleeping easy, breathing evenly. The prince realizes that, as before, he wanted to guarantee him a place where he could receive as much heat as possible he must be too warm here now.

He wondered about it earlier, but before that, he had no idea if Hwanwoong would want to stay and help him with what he had to do. He can't provide him with a separate room under the present circumstances, and there is some time left before the anticipated feast, but he knows that he can't allow him to rest on the couch all this time. He had these worries on the porch, but he forgot about everyone except the main one when he returned to his chamber.

And Hwanwoong forgave him. He promised him that he would stay and try to do his best so that the prince could achieve what he wanted.

Not knowing why, in this turbulent ocean of thoughts, the one thought that a person he doesn't even know well will be by his side calms the water and soothes the waves. He doesn't know why, but when he’s staring at the sleeping figure, he feels as if the rough ocean is a calm lake and the pressure of terror in his chest turns into a feeling that is different.

Youngjo thinks of covering him as the surrounding gets colder and he comes closer, but something stops him. Slowly walking away from the fireplace, he tries to convince himself that it is unnecessary as he will light the fire in a while again. Struggling with his thoughts, he steps back and almost bumps into a nearby chest of drawers.

He turns and crouches, then opens the last drawer. From among the crumpled papers and letters, he takes a decorated wooden casket and opens it.

His own crown is not as elaborate as royal but still impressive. A simple golden circle is completed with symmetrical meshes and dark purple stones embedded in places. Sliding his fingers along the fluted patterns, he hardly notices any signs of use.

He's scared, but fear is not bad when it will be faced.

‧ ❆ ‧

Hwanwoong went to freshen up to the bathroom immediately after waking up, so Youngjo is waiting at the table alone. The sound of the morning bells makes him realize that the people he is expecting will appear in a short time, and less time than expected passes when he hears a soft knock on the door. Dongju appears on the threshold, and before the other person enters the room, the prince knows that it's Keonhee.

“Don't yell like that! Not everyone needs to know you're visiting the prince,” Dongju says, looking at Keonhee with a grim face, but he doesn't pay attention to him and stares blankly at Youngjo.

“It's been a while.”

Dongju looks in the same direction, and a soft sigh falls out of his mouth. “I don't remember the last time I've seen you like this.”

Youngjo laughs quietly but his fists under the table clench nervously on the material of his pants. The princely crown contrasts with his dark hair. Despite its lightness, its weight is felt by him with every movement of his head. He hadn't worn it in so long. Belonging to the royal family was perceived by him in every aspect of his life, and he needed no additional reminder in the form of a golden ornament. The moment has come when he felt the need to remember it. The need to remind it not only himself.

“Do you know why I asked you to come here?” he asks.

“Geonhak didn't say much,” Dongju answers and takes one of the chairs next to the prince. "I inferred something from the events of the last few days.”

Keonhee doesn't approach them right away. “I know, but I won't believe it until I hear it from you.”

Youngjo doesn't have time to say anything as Keonhee opens the door and lets two people in. “Dongju scolded me, and you are even louder,” he snorts.

“It's natural for us to walk around the corridors of the castle, and you probably rarely put your nose outside the kitchen?” Seoho says and screams as he gets hit on his arm. “Act normal, or someone will think we're hurting the prince!”

Leedo ignores them and sits directly opposite Youngjo. He looks at the crown with interest but makes no comments and looks around.

“Are we all?”

The others take up free seats and Youngjo, hearing footsteps, turns towards the bathroom. “Now we are.”

Hwanwoong walks towards them hesitantly but speeds up when he sees that everyone Youngjo mentioned earlier is already there. The last free seat is on the right side of the prince.

“Hwanwoong, I don't think you’ve met Genhak yet,” Youngjo says. “At least you didn't get a word till now,” he adds, reminding that when he briefly explained to Hwanwoong, who they would meet in the morning, he mentioned that Geonhak was the other person who helped him reach the castle.

Hwanwoong smiles shyly, and Geonhak nods in response. Then everyone looks at Youngjo expectantly. The silence lengthens, and the prince avoids piercing glares, staring at his hands now clasped on the table until he finally clears his throat and raises his head.

“I trust you the most, that's why I asked Genhak to tell you to come here today,” he says, and it doesn't escape his attention when at these words, Hwanwoong looks away with a confused expression. He looks at the world outside the window, where fine snow is falling from the sky. “Winter has been bothering us for some time, but I wasn't aware of how much it affects the lives of the inhabitants. Did any of you know about it?”

“We have no contact with people from the town,” Seoho answers. “Especially now that even the markets aren't organized.”

“I have known since yesterday.”

Hwanwoong straightens up sharply at Keonhee's words and turns his head toward him.

Their eyes meet. “They're healthy, don't worry,” Keonhee says, smiling softly. “Everything is fine with them. They were worried about you but also surprised and relieved to hear that you are currently in the castle,” he assures him, seeing the concern on his face. “But I… I didn't tell them the reason you got here.”

Hwanwoong nods in understanding and squeezes his eyes shut as he lowers his head, so Keonhee says nothing more but waits for the prince to continue.

“I still find it hard to believe, but the council of the kingdom with my father and Yaejoon on the lead has gone astray.”

Dongju looks at him with wide eyes. “I've never heard you call the counselor by the name.”

“Yesterday, I lost all the respect I had left for him. I won't force myself on courtesies making no sense,” Youngjo says and clenches his hands tighter. “As for my father... He wasn't like that. I don't know... I don't know what happened to him.”

Silence answers him, and sighing, he unravels his hands and brings them closer.

“In the beginning, we have to help those who are suffering the most, and we will do it right away. But it is not enough if...”

Youngjo is either missing words or unable to utter what he means when his struggle is interrupted by Seoho's voice.

“It's not enough to cure the symptoms. We need to heal the cause.”

Geonhak's chair creaks as he shifts restlessly. “So you must take over the kingdom,” he ends.

He is directly in front of Youngjo, so their gaze crosses easily.

“I must take over the kingdom,” the prince repeats.

“Let's say I believe it now,” says Keonhee. “Now tell us how you want to do it. Even if we really wanted to, our six wouldn't win any fight, not to mention the fact that only one person is good at using weapons-“

“I don't want violence,” Youngjo interrupts him, speaking sharply. He crosses his gaze at each one in turn, and their faces look from surprise to doubt and terror. “No one can be hurt.”

“Do you think it's possible?” Seoho leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I thought you were planning to make a deal with some neighboring kingdom, and you want to… Actually, what?”

“Talk to people.”

Seoho looks at the prince in disbelief. “I thought this meeting was going to be serious…”

“I am serious!” Youngjo yells, and the room becomes silent. “Geonhak admitted it a chance of succeeding. So we will try,” he says again in a calm voice, and a small smile appears on his face. “I want to talk to people from the town, the castle, to the knights. I'd like to make them aware that the kingdom should work for the interest of all and not only for its own benefit. I want them to understand that when they have a problem, they can come and get help. That when their lives are in danger, the kingdom will turn upside down because it is made up of people, and without people, the kingdom doesn't exist.” He props his hands on the table and gets up from his chair. “My father doesn't want to cancel the feast and expects me to show up. And I will. I will go to the feast knowing that people are on my side and announce that it's time for a change. The changes we will make.”

The prince stands at the head of the table, and five pairs of eyes are staring at him silently. The golden crown on his head glistens in the light of the morning sun.

“I have nothing to lose and have already made up my mind. It's up to you whether you want to start these changes with me.”

Five pairs of eyes are staring at him still until the prince notices a movement to his right.

“I… I want…”

Hwanwoong puts his hand out in front of him slowly but without hesitation, placing it in the center of the table.

And hands join one by one. The last one is placed by the prince at the top.

_We never wanted violence,_

_We have to stay unite,_

_No one left outside._


	6. ❆ clandestinely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while. Motivation is fragile sometimes.  
> Please take a look at a note which I've put at the beginning.  
> Ruth B. - Golden

_Burn, burn, burn,_

_They used to yell._

_You thought I was coal._

During winter days, the sun moves across the sky so fast that it takes only a few blinks after the sunrise for the last rays to give their way to darkness. The night light is different: the stars are not always visible, and the moon reflecting light lends nightly mystery to ordinary during the day objects.

Hwanwoong is walking steadily, looking around with interest, fascinated. Finally, not afraid of the darkness.

“There’s a stable,” says Dongju, pointing to a building in the distance. He squeezes Hwanwoong's hand by which he’s holding him to get his attention. “I don't ride horses often myself, but I love to take care of them. The royal ones are beautiful, pure blood, and full of majesty. I think if you ask Geonhak, he will show you his bay mare one day-”

"Keep your voice down, Dongju.” Geonhak gives him a scolding look. “We're almost in the castle.”

A few days have passed, three, maybe four. Hwanwoong isn't sure as his days were similar, his thoughts distracted. He's lost track of time.

A few days left until the feast that everyone in Hwanwoong's immediate vicinity has been talking. All of them that is Dongju, and sometimes Seoho, who visited him every morning and evening, making sure he was healthy, wondering that none of his fears had come true, and delighted at how quickly he was recovering.

Dongju grips Hwanwoong’s hand tighter as they pass next to one of the side doors. “I'll be quiet but promise you will show Hwanwoong your mare.”

Geonhak sighs. “As soon as there is an opportunity.”

“Look forward to this Hwanwoong!”

“Dongju, shhh!”

The trip is not long, and Hwanwoong hasn’t seen as much as he wanted but appreciates every minute spent breathing fresh winter air. He would like to stay outdoors longer. Returning to an empty chamber terrifies him.

He looks down, hesitantly entwining his fingers with Dongju's. Although the younger is enthusiastically telling him about the royal court, pointing out buildings and shutters, smuggling history and legends, his mood doesn't reach Hwanwoong, but he does his best to smile.

Geonhak is walking a step ahead of them, looking around and controlling their surroundings, tense and alert.

Hwanwoong feels guilty.

The prince was against the idea of their walk, and all the reasons he mentioned were logical and valid. His trust in people in the castle has been limited, even more so after the recent events he hasn’t known who to trust at all.

Seoho had his point of view, and Hwanwoong heard it despite his ears covered with pillows and bedding. Wandering on the border of sleep and consciousness, he heard words quiet but affecting his senses like tiny pins, and sleep was taken from him irrevocably. He didn’tt dare to get up in the middle of their argument. He was lying there and listening.

Seoho maintained that the prince couldn't have force Hwanwoong to spend all his time in his chamber. Youngjo that Hwanwoong has agreed to stay, that he was not here against himself. Seoho had more arguments. He persuaded him that if he asked him to help Hwanwoong earlier, he should have also listened to him on this matter. That it was impossible to separate the psyche from the body, that staying in one room didn't lead to calming his fear and anxiety, and he wouldn't recover until he feels comfortable and safe.

Youngjo maybe didn't understand, maybe didn't want to understand. He repeated over and over that the castle was not safe and he wouldn't put him in another danger, that this was not why he'd asked Seoho to help him then. That he would not forgive himself if he were hurt.

Hwanwoong was just lying there, with his heart flapping in his chest hard. Lying, he was thinking, erring, getting lost. He was…

Was he a burden?

The prince finally agreed on the condition that Geonhak would go with him, as Seoho'd suggested.

And then Hwanwoong could no longer hear the words, neither the pleasant nor the agitated ones as before, but only the clatter of princely shoes' heels when he left the room. He left it like every morning after the meeting, thinking that Hwanwoong was still asleep, and to come back to his chamber late in the night, thinking that Hwanwoong would be resting already a peaceful sleep, soaked in the pillows.

Hwanwoong was never sleeping was the truth, he was just lying there in the darkness, with his eyes shut.

Like a burden.

“Are you cold?” asks Dongju.

“No,” Hwanwoong answers. Dressed in a warm coat and leather boots, he doesn't feel cold.

Through thick gloves, he doesn't feel the warmth of Dongju's fingers wrapped around his, but the ersatz of touch is pleasant. The thought of Dongju within reach, as his hand is immersed in his own, is soothing and reassuring.

Dongju's volunteered to keep them company, eagerly, as soon as he heard about Seoho's suggestion. He assured Hwanwoong that it was a good idea and that Seoho was always right and could be trusted, as well as anyone in their inner circle of trusted people. That Dongju was glad, he would finally be able to show at least some of the things described by him during the last days that he’d spent with him in the chamber, accompanying him during the absence of the prince.

Hwanwoong had never had a friend before. Now, his friend's warmth is stopped by the thick material of his glove, but it is in his heart that spreads independently.

Geonhak suddenly stops. “Wait here,” he says firmly. “In silence.”

He steps away from them a few steps more and disappears around the corner of the wall along which they were walking, leaving Dongju and Hwanwoong alone.

Dongju turns to Hwanwoong, grabs his other hand. “I'd like to show you more, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t say that,” Hwanwoong whispers. “I’m so grateful. Thank you for coming with us-”

“It's all my pleasure!” Dongju states and Hwanwoong releases his hand to quickly put a finger to his lips, reminding him to be silent. “Ahhh, I’m… sorry…” Dongju whispers, lengthening his words excessively, then laughs softly. “Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep tonight?”

“No, thank you, you should rest as well,” Hwanwoong answers, smiling back more shyly, hesitantly, as if he doesn't believe in the sincerity of the words he was saying himself. “It's already late.”

Dongju sighs, forming a ball of steam in the night winter air. He raises his free hand to Hwanwoong's face and strokes his pink, cold cheek with the back of it.

“I don't want you to be alone.”

Hwanwoong tilts his head in the direction where he feels Dongju's touch against his bare skin. “Dongju…”

“I don't want, Hwanwoong, I don’t want you to be alone in this chamber again-“ Dongju’s voice becomes louder, but his words cut in half when the rustle of the robes announces the return of Geonhak.

He doesn't say anything. He encourages them with his hand to follow him, which they do, going along the wall and then walking along with the next one, but it doesn’t last long until they reach a wooden door with a brass handle, so narrow that Dongju must let go of Hwanwoong's hand for them to pass through it.

The corridor they enter is dark, empty, and Geonhak whispers to them to grab their hands again as their eyesight is limited. He grabs Hwanwoong by the other hand, placing him in the middle of their procession as Geonhak leads them forward, following the road as surely, as if he was following a map written in his memory, and the darkness surrounding them like a fog was no obstacle.

They reach stairs, where the moonlight passes easily through windows and reflects in the marble steps, illuminating the stone statues in the corners and paintings adorning the walls.

“Dongju,” Geonhak whispers, letting go of his hand. “Go to your place. Be careful on the way.”

The look Dongju gives Hwanwoong tells him everything the younger doesn't want to say aloud. Then he nods his head and, wishing them good night, silently makes his way down the stairs.

“Come with me,” Geonhak says to Hwanwoong. They go upstairs.

The rest of the way passes, and Hwanwoong shakes his thoughts as Geonhak squeezes his hand when they stop.

“Go to the end of the corridor. The door to the left leads to the princely chamber.”

“Thank you.” Hwanwoong nods and moves, and despite the miserable light, he recognizes the part of the corridor he's moving on, not admitting it aloud as he should see it for the first time.

And this is his second one. He saw it for the first time two days ago, when Dongju, bored to the limit, making sure that no one was around, called Hwanwoong to look at the majestic look of the castle outside Youngjo's chamber. Few seconds were enough, and Hwanwoong memorized a painting right in front of the entrance, the painting of a knight on a dark horse, waving a flag as if in a gesture of victory, now in the darkness evoking negative thoughts because he's alone on the canvas, like defeated, like after losing a battle where the death has come for his confreres. Hwanwoong has a good memory for images, as life has taught him that perceptiveness is one of the qualities of survival. Details fall into his memory unconsciously and stay there for a long time, whether they evoke good or bad memories.

He remembered the prince's expression very clearly when their confidants had departed to their duties, having in mind freshly assigned tasks to be performed before the upcoming feast.

The feast during which something that neither of them had ever dreamed would have to happen. The prince will declare himself the king.

The expression that troubled Hwanwoong's thoughts at every moment of loneliness and then bit into them so deeply that he didn't stop thinking about it even when he was spending time with Dongju.

Maybe he shouldn't have outstretched his hand out onto the table, maybe it was not his approval the prince expected. Hwanwoong was sitting with them at the table, setting a plan of action in such an important matter as the seizure of the throne, which depended on the lives of not only all people in the Kingdom but also theirs.

But maybe he shouldn't have been there. But it was the prince who asked him to stay.

Maybe he did it because he had no choice? Because his conscience wouldn't let him go. Or maybe Hwanwoog could be useful to him, but that was not what he suspected the prince. Hwanwoong believed him that he didn't expect even lifelong gratitude from him because it was his duty to save his life.

Because in contrary to the opinion of people in the town, Youngjo is a man with such a big heart that Hwanwoong could leave only to go to people, knocking from door to door to proclaim this truth, this reality.

Or maybe Youngjo, despite reassuring him that he'd spent hours thinking how to apologize to him for the untrue accusation so that he would not leave and stay in the castle, he wasn't so sure about it anymore. Maybe Hwanwoong did something wrong.

Because in those rare moments when they talked to each other in recent days, the prince looked at him differently, as if he were scared. Something in his gaze reminded Hwanwoong of the first days with his new family when they had accepted him as a stranger. When the girls were distrustful, and it was obvious that they wanted to know him, they wanted to play with him, but the situation was so new that only fear was visible on their faces.

Hwanwoong was afraid then that he wouldn't fit. He felt as if he should go away.

Why does Youngjo acting as he acts? Why is his gaze piercing strangely, why is his behavior hurting strikingly?

And he's still missing.

Hwanwoong feels he doesn't fit here, that he's causing trouble, already causing two friends to argue, and everyone wastes more valuable time because of him, like Geonhak that evening, or whole days like Dongju.

He is a burden.

‧ ❆ ‧

Geonhak is watching him until he reaches the door, presses the handle. As the door swings open under his pressure, out of the corner of his eye, Hwanwoong sees Geonhak turn and walk away.

Hwanwoong’s eyes, accustomed to the omnipresent darkness, squint involuntarily in response to the excessive light in the chamber. He blinks several times to get them used to new surroundings. His eyes widen when he notices the figure in the room, sitting at the desk, staring at him with an equally surprised look.

“Do I… Do I bother?” Hwanwoong stutters, not being sure what he should say as these words don't have sense, as he has nowhere else to go.

“No, of course not,” Youngjo answers. “How was the walk?”

Still standing at the entrance, Hwanwoong hesitates but moves forward, heading towards his place. “The castle is beautiful-”

“Come here,” Youngjo interrupts him. Hwanwoong looks at him, and the prince smiles encouragingly, points to an ornate armchair near his desk.

Hwanwoong’s heart beats a little faster, one or two heartbeats feel harder at the sound of Youngjo's words, his voice in general. A breath that he takes going there is shaky.

It's the same as always, as from the first time when he opened his eyes a few days ago, confused and lost, and his only thought was that this had to be a dream, that the person in front of him couldn't be the person coming to his mind. It felt unreal, it still does, and sometimes Hwanwoong has to look up at the decorated chandeliers or clench his fists on clothes made of materials so soft that he feels like a second skin to him to realize that he is not dreaming, that this is happening, that... That he didn't die.

It was his first thought, even earlier than fear, and he plunged into it before realizing that he was still breathing, his heart was beating, immediately raging after he realized that it was a prince who was kneeling next to him.

It's still the same, but it's different now. Hwanwoong hadn’t been close to the prince for a long time. Intimidation makes his tongue go numb, and his legs guide him as if he doesn’t control them.

“Tell me,” says Youngjo.

Hwanwoong pulls off his coat and takes a seat, leaning against its velvet back. He opens his mouth, but the words don't come out of them, his inhale is long, and he looks at his fingers, slowly sliding off his gloves. “I...”

Hwanwoong didn't expect to find the prince in the chamber.

Youngjo didn't seem to be expecting Hwanwoong as early as the first look he gave him was horrified. But now, his smile is soft, polite as he's shaken off his surprise, taking the weight of the conversation seeing Hwanwoong's embarrassment.

“Have you seen the gardens?” he asks.

Hwanwoong looks up, nods his head. “Yes, I have.”

“They are beautiful, aren't they?”

“Yes. They are beautiful…”

“In winter, they look like a fairy tale, when everything is covered in snow. But nothing compares when it is warm. When the gardens delight with flowers…” Youngjo says, puts down the crown from his head, looks thoughtfully ahead. “Do you know how many varieties of roses can be seen there? Some of them bloom when the petals of others do not start to come to life yet. There's so beautiful then. Time passes, and there is time to shine for others, to show their beauty after the former dimmed to reveal their beauty again in a year…”

Hwanwoong absorbs Youngjo's words, and colorful flowers bloom in his imagination fed by the sun and water, decorating the area which he so recently admired despite the dark. He imagines birds flying high in the blue sky, buzzing bees pollinating plants, cool morning wind which blows on back, encouraging to work in harvesting nature's crops from fertile soil, devoid of snow...

“When the spring comes, I'm sure-” the prince pauses suddenly, surprised at his own speech. He hesitates, his eyes focus on the papers in front of him, his fingers glide through the crown put aside, through its purple stones. “If… If the spring comes…”

Youngjo's voice changes. Soothing seconds ago, now is lower and deeper, and the flowers wither in Hwanwoong's mind. Everything is covered with snow, bathed in white, and nothing encourages him to get up in the morning, and he has no strength for it when there is no life except winter, and when winter is life and death and everything at the same time, when there's nothing more except for cold and freeze...

Hwanwoong takes a deep breath and slides his hands between his legs so that the prince doesn't notice that they are gently shaking.

“Why… Why do you doubt if spring will come?”

Sitting in the warm princely room, he gets goosebumps, feeling his barrier loosen at that one sentence, feeling like repulsed memories are flooding his mind, and terror intensifies as if he is beginning to sink.

The spring is his barrier. The spring is his dam.

He remembers the girls' smiles when the first snow was falling, when he was forcing himself to smile, knowing that the winter would be hard. The view of fear in the girls' eyes when the snow was falling every day, and of their mother, counting out slices of bread, and their father, returning from hunting empty-handed. He sees snow around the castle in a night so bright through the moonlight reflecting in the snow. He almost feels snow's coldness on his skin, so real, so terrifying...

The winter cannot last forever.

Hwanwoong feels shivers going through, his hands shaking more which each next memory.

Youngjo doesn’t notice it, doesn’t look at him. “How can we be sure that it will come?” he asks. “How can we be sure of anything when we are not sure what will happen tomorrow? Does certainty even exist?”

He gets up from his chair, takes a few steps away, with his back to Hwanwoong. He doesn't notice him squeezing his eyes shut.

“Tomorrow, I will meet the knights. Tomorrow I will give my first speech, pleading people to follow me for our common good,” the prince says, voice trembling. “Since our meeting, Geonhak has preached the truth at every possible opportunity, making people aware of what situation in the kingdom. I don't know if they believed him. Seoho, Keonhee, and Dongju are doing the same. Those who have no contact with people in the town probably think they are crazy. There is no certainty that anyone believed them.” 

Memories mingle with new imaginations, and out of Youngjo's sight, Hwanwoong squeezes his eyes tighter, breathes deeply, and does everything to stop his heart from pounding like crazy. Lest Youngjo not sees, not notices him, to not add more worries to his endless list. He focuses on Youngjo's voice, on his words, focuses on him with all his strength.

“I’ve finished writing messages with information about the time and place of the meeting. Tomorrow at dinner, Keonhee will give them secretly to the right people. From tomorrow there will be no turning back,” Youngjo sighs. “It feels like we're running into a battle with no armor and no weapons, and our only strategy is to survive,” he says, and goes to the fireplace, then crouches next to it and throws into it a piece of wood. “But we have no choice. We have to run out of our shelter that is on fire. Would we run with a song on our lips? How difficult would it be for us to keep our heads up?”

The fire intensifies, sending golden sparks upward.

Youngjo turns to Hwanwoong. “There is no certainty. There is hope only.”

Hwanwoong's eyes are closed, he doesn't say anything. The silence lingers in the room, empty seconds or minutes, and then it is broken by the sound of the prince's shoes' heels. Hwanwoong is sure that he will leave the chamber, and this one time, he is grateful. This one time, he doesn't feel the regret clenching his chest that Youngjo will go without a word again, when Hwanwoong is cramped in himself being the definition of pitifulness, without any nobility despite days spent in royal walls. He wants the prince to leave so that he could curl up under the sheets and pretend that he is sleeping so that the prince does not feel obliged to talk to him. So that he can pretend that he does not exist…

The steps cease. There’s a touch on Hwanwoong’s back, soft and hesitating.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” Youngjo says quietly. “Hwanwoong… Don’t be afraid…”

Don’t be afraid, echoes in Hwanwoong’s head but he knows, he knows that in castles and palaces there’s no room for fear, there is no place for the weak and the broken, not worth the time, like him.

“Hwanwoong… Stand up. Look at me, please…”

He stands up at the prince's request, his legs uncertainly supporting his body, stiff muscles. He is away from snow and frost yet, but his hands are still trembling, and then they stop shaking when other hands reach for them and grasp them confidently with barely perceptible uncertainty.

Youngjo’s gaze is full of seriousness, full of calmness. “Hope is all we have, but the most precious thing we could have,” he whispers.

His grip on Hwanwoong's hands tightens and relaxes when after the prince pulls him close enough. Hwanwoong feels the warmth of his hand on his back, he feels this warmth on the back of his head as the prince pulls him even closer with the utmost delicacy so that Hwanwoong plunges into his satin shirt.

“Breathe,” he tells him.

He does. He inhales the scent of floral fluids, with which he smells, the oils that Hwanwoong himself uses in his bath, and the snow in his imagination melts with each subsequent breath. Youngjo's shoulders are broad, and his embrace is warm, and Hwanwoong doesn't shake anymore because he knows that the frost cannot reach him here, hidden from the whole world.

The prince hugged him before, embraced him to hold him before he fell to pieces as he talked about failing his loved ones, embraced him, and let him cry all the tears that had accumulated under his eyelids until he had the strength to crying. But Hwanwoong doesn't remember if he smelled like flowers like now, he doesn't remember if his embraces gave as much warmth and comfort as now because then there was only fear and horror, and now, these feelings fade away easily as he rests his head on Youngjo's chest.

Don't be afraid, people say, but these words are empty and do not matter when fear is ingrained, when it is unbreakable. You are safe here, words are uttered, but they make no sense when it is actions make sense and when Hwanwoong knows that there is nothing to be afraid of, snuggled in the warmth and scent of flowers.

He feels Youngjo's warm breaths into his hair.

“We… We must hold on to this hope…”

Certainty doesn't have to exist, and spring doesn't have to come because the new feeling that Hwanwoong feels deep in his heart is closest to when he watches the petals unfold and nature begins to live. Spring is hope, and spring is warmth and flowers, and-

“Our hope is in you,” Hwanwoong whispers.

He feels the shadow of the prince's thrill, feels him tense, no longer feels his warmth as he moves away.

“I…”

“You are my hope,” Hwanwoong continues when the words are unstoppable, when every thanks demand to be spoken, formed in his head while evenings spent on waiting in the dark for the return of the prince. “You gave me hope. I owe you my life.”

Youngjo's gaze strays, he looks down, aside. “Don’t… It’s not-”

“You didn't close your eyes even though you could. You've opened them wider when you found out what was going on.”

“I keep them wide open because I'm still looking for the way I should go. I'm lost, Hwanwoong, I don't know where I'm going... I myself am looking for hope and trying to catch it ineptly-”

“You rub the trail. You lead the way,” Hwanwoong says, and his words flow without thinking as he doesn’t have to think about them, as they flow straight from his heart. “You are the bravest, and people will see it, they will follow you, they will see in you hope for a better tomorrow and life. As I see it in you. As you've already given it to me...”

“No, I… I just…” the prince stutters and takes a step back, then another as if to gain momentum. “I just…” he pauses. “Sleep well, Hwanwoong...” he says finally, and after another step, he turns and paces the room, opens the door, leaves. Hwanwoong is left alone.

He hears the clatter of the prince's shoes, sees the expression on his face. He feels everything and nothing.

He doesn't understand.

_Cause I'm not weak, I'm not broken, I am bold._

_And the fire you put me through turned me into gold._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on Twitter as @_szaira :3


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